


A Walk on the Wild Side

by Sani86



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, COVID-19 Lockdown, Chef Aziraphale, Falling In Love, Fire, Game Ranger Crowley, M/M, South Africa, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:27:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25381594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sani86/pseuds/Sani86
Summary: Crowley has been working as a game ranger at Engadini Game Reserve for... well, more years than he cares to count.A new manager threatens to upset everything with his plans to turn Engadini into a prime eco-tourism destination. But the new chef he appointed for the lodge might just make it all worth while.Meanwhile, Aziraphale - the new chef in question - can't stop staring at the lanky red-headed game ranger who moves like a snake.Unfortunately, romantic entanglements of any kind are strictly against the rules, and could cost them both their jobs. How long can they fight the undeniable attraction between them?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 241
Kudos: 151
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	1. New faces

**Author's Note:**

> This is another human AU taking place in South Africa, but this time we’re in 2020 (so no Apartheid-era angst here, thank you. All is legal and more-or-less accepted by society.).   
> Engadini is an imaginary game reserve, but I envision it being somewhere in the north of KwaZulu Natal or the Lowveld (meaning the climate is somewhere between savanna and subtropical, if you can imagine such a thing. Winters are dry and pleasant, and summers are a hot, humid hell, but it’s very, very beautiful).
> 
> My baby brother is actually a conservationist/game ranger/field guide, so quite a lot of this is based on stories he’s told me (Read: the relatively mundane bits come from my own imagination, but all the crazy parts are based on real events. I’ll leave it to you to guess which is which). He’ll never read this, but nonetheless – this one’s dedicated to you li'l bro xx.
> 
> If you’ve read my other South African AU, I should probably mention that this one's tone is very different. It was actually meant to be just a fun, sexy little thing, but then these boys caught all sorts of feelings and I ended up with pining (for a bit, at least), drama – and exactly 2 (two) paragraphs of actual sexiness. What can you do – these boys have their own ideas. Sex will be clearly marked, for those who wish to avoid it.
> 
> A bit of vocab...  
> • Veld (lit. field), bush: both used to refer to the ‘wild’, i.e. generally unspoiled nature, such as you find in a reserve.  
> • Bakkie = what the Americans call a pickup truck.

_Beep...beep...beep_

Like every morning, Crowley cursed at his phone as he fumbled around in the dark, trying to shut off the blasted alarm. He really, really didn’t like waking up.

Nevertheless, like every morning, he dragged himself out of bed, despite the fact that it wasn’t even light outside. He had work to do.

First order of business: caffeine. Still half-asleep, he flipped the switch on the coffee machine – after an unfortunate experience with some oat bran, he’d learned to set the thing up the night before, ready to go in the morning. While the coffee percolated, he visited the bathroom, and was rewarded with a cup of fresh, hot coffee when he returned, gulping down half the cup in one breath.

As his brain cells slowly came back online, he pulled on his clothes: khaki-coloured cargo pants, decently thick socks, hiking boots, and a khaki shirt emblazoned with the logo of Engadini[1], the game lodge where he worked and stayed. He regarded his hair in the mirror for a moment, then pulled it roughly into a messy bun; it was way too early in the morning to try and untangle that crow’s nest. Various pieces of paraphernalia made their way into his numerous pockets: his two-way radio, a Leatherman multitool, a sturdy field knife, his phone, access card and, importantly, his sunglasses – it was still dark out, but the sun would be rising within the hour and he’d learned his lesson after a few nasty migraines: the African sun was not to be trifled with. For much the same reason he was sure to grab his favourite leather veld hat before he made his way out the door to his trusty old Hilux.

As much as he complained about waking up, Crowley loved these early morning hours, when the reserve was quiet and the air was cool. He often skipped breakfast in favour of doing the more physically demanding tasks before the sun got too hot. Today’s job: clearing a road. A big storm a couple of days ago had blown over a few trees, and one particularly big bugger was lying right across the road that went to the dam. There were guests coming on the weekend who would almost certainly want to go on a game drive, so he had to get that road cleared. He stopped at the workshop to grab a chainsaw and an axe, and set off into the veld.

He was about halfway through the job when his two-way radio crackled to life. “Crowley? Crowley come in,” came the voice of Beez, his direct supervisor.

He wiped his hand on his shorts, leaving a darker brown streak, before picking up the radio and pressing the talk button.

“Here,” he said, silently cursing as a rivulet of sweat ran down his forehead, stinging his eyes. Why the fuck was it so hot at eight in the morning? He used his free hand to pull of his shades and wipe his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Where the fuck are you?” Beez demanded.

“Chopping down that tree on the dam road like you told me to,” he answered.

“Get your ass down here!” Beez snapped. “Or did you forget about the meeting this morning?”

Oh fuck, yes. The meeting with the new lodge manager. “Shit, sorry,” he said. “Be there in five.”

He threw his equipment in the back of the bakkie and gunned it back to the lodge, heedless of the bumpy dirt road. His old Hilux was tough, she could take it[2]. He made it back to the offices in record time.

When he stepped into the crowded meeting room, every eye turned to him. “Uh. Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Tree down on the dam road, you know how it is.” Beez was staring daggers at him.

“No problem,” said a man Crowley didn’t recognise, but who seemed to be in charge – the new manager, he supposed. “But let’s not make a habit of it, eh?” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He moved to clap Crowley on the shoulder, but stopped when he saw the state of him. Crowley had been chopping down a tree on a dirt road in the bush for the last two hours; he was well aware that he was dusty, sweaty, and probably starting to smell. Not the best first impression.

Crowley took a seat as far away from the man as possible, trying not to feel completely out of place.

“For those of you who don’t know,” the man began, “My name is Gabriel Archer, but you can all call me Gabriel. I’m taking over the management of the Guest Lodge.”

There were a few mumbled hellos.

“Now, I intend to spruce up this place and make Engadini a prime luxury eco-tourism destination,” Gabriel went on.

Crowley groaned internally. He hated tourists. Sure, they provided the money that kept the farm going, but he found it exhausting to deal with silly city dwellers who freaked out every time they saw a dung beetle, and who expected him to take them to see the big five even though they didn’t have any predators on their reserve. Unfortunately, Crowley was the only ranger who was also trained as a field guide, and the only one of them with an ounce of people skills, so he inevitably ended up playing the role of tour guide.

“To this end, I’ve appointed some new staff,” Gabriel was saying. Crowley realised for the first time that there were a few new faces in the room. “Why don’t we go around the room and introduce ourselves?” He gestured to an immaculately groomed, stern-looking woman on his right.

“I’m Michael Godwin. I am the new admin manager, and I will also be taking on the marketing and public relations. It’s my job to clean up our image,” she shot Crowley a _look_ as she said this, “and put us in the public eye.”

“Thank you, Michael,” Gabriel grinned. “I can assure you all, she is the best of the best. She’ll whip this place into shape in no time.” No-one else quite seemed to share Gabriel’s enthusiasm on the topic, but he didn’t let that deter him. “You next, miss,” he said, gesturing at Beez.

_Bad move, buddy,_ Crowley though, biting down on a grin as Beez drew themselves up to their full 1.53 metres. “What did you call me?” they hissed.

“Miss?” Gabriel answered, sounding uncertain.

“Oh, so just because I’m short, you think I’m a girl?” Beez sneered.

“Sorry, um... sir?” Gabriel was looking entirely wrong-footed now.

Beez snorted. “My name is Beez, and you will address me as such. If you try to gender me again, _they will never find you_.”

Gabriel was now looking terrified of the short, black haired human who, in defiance of the laws of physics, seemed to be looming over him. “And, um, what do you do... Beez?” Gabriel said, tentatively.

“Chief conservationist,” Beez answered. “I’m in charge of the reserve and the rangers.”

“Well, well. Wonderful,” Gabriel said, regaining his composure at least somewhat. “Shall we carry on?” he gestured to the next person, who happened to be Crowley.

“Crowley,” he said shortly. “Game ranger.” Not getting into a conversation with this one, no sir.

The introductions went on without too much further incident – Hastur and Ligur (also rangers), Tracy (receptionist and housekeeper), Shadwell (groundskeeper and handyman), the twins Eric (kitchen assistant) and Erica (housekeeping), and Uriel (personnel management and finances). Finally, they got to the last person, another new face. Crowley eyed the man curiously. He was dressed in an immaculate white chef’s jacket and apron; he wasn’t wearing a chef’s hat, though, and his curly hair was such a pale shade of blonde that it gave him the effect of a small, earthbound cloud. The previous chef, Raven, had left after getting a better offer from some high-end health spa; this, presumably, was his replacement.

“I’m Aziraphale,” the cloud-man said, a smile breaking through like the sun after a thunderstorm. “I’m the new chef, as you can probably guess,” he said, gesturing at his outfit.

“Thank you, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said. “They do say you should never trust a skinny cook. Guess that makes you the best of the best, eh?”

_Did he seriously just say that?_ Crowley wondered. He took a closer look at Aziraphale, trying to guess at the contours of his body under the jacket, and then blushing when he realised how inappropriate that thought was. Better to look at the man’s face. He frowned when he saw that the sunny smile was gone, and Aziraphale was looking down self-consciously, the corners of his mouth turned down. Crowley felt a sudden urge to punch the new manager in the face.

\---

Aziraphale sighed at Gabriel’s thinly veiled insult. Not this again. Gabriel was a distant cousin, and had been teasing Aziraphale about his weight for as long as he could remember. It didn’t help that Gabriel himself maintained a movie-star physique despite the fact that he was nearing fifty. He seemed to think Aziraphale’s inability to do the same was some sort of moral failing.

Truth be told, Aziraphale wasn’t interested in looking like Gabriel – at least, not if it involved the kind of regime Gabriel had to stick to. Aziraphale loved food – loved it so much that he decided to make a career out of it. Nothing on earth could persuade him to give up cheese and butter, soft white bread and creamy chocolate. And as for exercise – ugh, no thank you. After spending all day on his feet in the kitchen, Aziraphale wanted to do nothing more than put his feet up and enjoy a glass of wine and a good book.

He knew that his lifestyle had taken a toll on his body – at least, on its appearance; his doctor assured him that he was as healthy as a horse. But honestly, he was on the wrong side of forty, and couldn’t be arsed to care about it. It wasn’t like he was out there, cruising the scene for a hot new partner. Might as well be comfortable while living like a monk out in the bush.

“All right, I think that’s it,” Gabriel was saying. “Now, we have a couple coming in on Saturday who are interested in hosting their wedding here. We all know that’s where the big money is, so I want everyone on their best form. Also, remember we have that group of ten checking in tomorrow morning; some corporate teambuilding thing. Michael and I will be coming around to everyone during the day to make sure everything is up to scratch. Now go on, go do your thing.”

Aziraphale sighed as he made his way out of the building, heading for the kitchens. Great. Just what he needed – Gabriel hanging over his shoulder, trying to tell him how to do his job.

Although, he mused, Gabriel might not make it that far. He had been cornered by that angry game ranger – Beez, he remembered – who seemed to be threatening all sorts of dire consequences if Gabriel’s tourism efforts interfered with their conservation activities. Aziraphale had to stifle a grin – he’d never seen Gabriel looking so discomfited. He watched as Beez nearly pushed a finger up Gabriel’s nose before whirling around and stomping off.

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon,” came a drawling voice behind him.

“It did, rather,” Aziraphale answered, looking around to see who had been talking. It turned out to be one of the rangers, the one who’d walked in late, looking like he’d been dragged there through a thorn bush by a wild horse. “I hope there won’t be any trouble.”

“Well, now,” the ranger mused. “I suppose that would depend on whether Gabriel learns his place.”

“But he’s the manager,” Aziraphale protested. “Surely that means he’s in charge.”

The ranger chuckled. “I can see you don’t know Beez. Here’s a tip: don’t piss them off.”

“Noted,” Aziraphale said with a chuckle. “Thank for the advice, Mr...?” Oh darn, now he couldn’t even remember the man’s name.

“Crowley. Just Crowley, no mister,” the ranger said, holding out a hand, but taking it back quickly when he saw that he was still covered in dirt. “Sorry,” he said, using the hand to tuck an errant strand of hair back behind his ear.

Aziraphale’s eye followed the movement, and he saw that Crowley had a twig stuck in his messy bun. Before he could think, he reached out to remove it. “Here, you have something...” he leaned closer, using both hands to carefully disentangle the twig from his hair without pulling it. “Wouldn’t want you to get scratched,” he said, holding it up proudly.

“Mngk,” Crowley responded. “Um. Thanks.” Was it Aziraphale’s imagination, or was the man blushing? No, probably just the sun.

“Well,” he said brightly, “Better get going. Lots of work to do.”

“Mneuh. Yeah, work.” Crowley seemed to come back to himself. “Tree won’t chop itself up, yeah?” Crowley turned away and started walking toward the parking area. “Ciao!” he said over his shoulder with a little wave.

Aziraphale waved back with a chuckle and watched as Crowley walked – no, swaggered – no, _sauntered_ over to a beat-up old bakkie. Ciao? What a strange man.

\---

Crowley spent the rest of the morning clearing the road, and a good part of the afternoon listening to Gabriel tell him how to do his job. Apparently, the man wanted to offer all sorts of nature-based activities as a tourist attraction. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Beez tells me you’re the only guide we have,” Gabriel was saying. He looked more than a little doubtful at Crowley’s capabilities. “So we’ll use this corporate group as a testing ground, yes? Think game drives, nature walks, birdwatching. Ooh, maybe sundowners at the dam? Talk to Aziraphale, maybe he can pack you some picnic baskets or something.”

“You do realise this is a nature reserve, yeah?” Crowley said. “We can’t just have people randomly trampling through the bush, upsetting the flora and fauna.”

“Sure, sure,” Gabriel said, “But keep in mind: those corporates and weddings and tourists are paying your salary. So you’d better find a way to accommodate them.”

Crowley sighed internally. There was no reasoning with this one. “Okay, fine,” he said. “But I’m warning you, I’ll have to get everything greenlighted by Beez first.”

“Um, yes, of course.” Gabriel suddenly looked a bit flustered. “You’ll talk to... them, right? Is that the right, um, pronoun or whatever? I mean, can’t be him or her, can it?”

Crowley chuckled. Okay, maybe he was just doing it to save his own skin from Beez’s wrath, but at least he was trying. “Yeah, Beez goes by they/them. Okay, I’ll talk to them. But if there are issues, the two of you will have to sort it out.”

Finally free of that encounter, he got back to work on the next thing on his to-do list: an inspection of the perimeter fence. Once upon a time that would have meant taking a looooong drive, but Crowley had caught up to the twenty-first century: he had a drone with a decent camera that he could use for the job.

As his luck would have it, there was some damage to one section, and he had to drive out to repair it. The reserve was triple-fenced with sturdy mesh fencing on either side of an eight-foot high electrified fence. The damage he had found was on the inner mesh fence, which meant the animals could wander into the electric fencing – an idea he didn’t like at all, even if it wouldn’t kill them. He’d accidentally touched the fence more than once, and knew exactly how unpleasant it was.

The problem with time-consuming but relatively simple manual labour is that it gives one far too much time to think. And Crowley’s treacherous thoughts kept swinging back to the new chef. He tried to tell himself that it was just novelty; that it had been so long since they had a new face at the reserve, and a friendly one at that. Not to mention pretty. Boy was he pretty – all dandelion fluff hair and twinkling blue-green-grey eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Hmmm, his smile; pink lips and straight teeth, and a laugh more musical than the birdsong at dawn. Crowley wondered if those lips would feel as soft as they looked. Smooth and plump, they were, so unlike his own lips, thin and perpetually chapped from the hot sun.

Ah, fuck it. This wasn’t just novelty. This could shape up to be a real problem.

### Notes

1 Engadini is Zulu for ‘in the garden’.[return to text]

2 The Toyota Hilux is an indestructible vehicle, perfect for Africa. Don’t believe me? Watch as the guys from Top Gear try to destroy one: Part [1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnWKz7Cthkk), [2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xTPnIpjodA8&list=PL8Oh5xwN-3YyddtxdadfjHMYBwf0PWpYL&index=3&t=0s), [3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFnVZXQD5_k).[return to text]


	2. Snakes and brioche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley does game ranger things, Aziraphale does chef things. Both are flirting. Neither picks up on it.

That evening, Crowley made his way to the shared staff kitchen and dining area. One of the perks of living out here in the bush was having most of your meals cooked for you; the downside was that all the cooking had to happen at a central kitchen. Breakfast and lunch were do-it-yourself affairs, but dinner was when everyone came together to unwind from the day’s work.

Crowley had never much cared for this arrangement. He didn’t like being between people at the best of times, and there was something about his co-workers that particularly grated on his nerves. More often than not, he would just grab his food and go eat in his bungalow while watching series on his laptop (thank someone they at least had ADSL out here). The TV in the dining-room-slash-lounge was always showing sports, for some reason – Hastur and Ligur particularly liked those ridiculous WWE-type wrestling shows. No thanks. Occasionally he might eat with Tracy (she talked enough for at least two and a half people, so if Crowley just remembered to nod occasionally he didn’t have to work too hard at the conversation), or share a beer with Shadwell, but on the whole, he preferred his own company.

Tonight, however, he thought he might actually eat in the dining room; he thought he might enjoy some company over dinner. Well, one person’s company. Okay, so he just wanted to see Aziraphale again. Talk to him, maybe, and get to know him a bit. Try to make him laugh, so that he could see that crinkly-eyed smile again. Or any expression, really; Crowley would be quite content just to sit and stare at him. He even took a shower (Although, to be fair, he’d really needed one – you know it’s bad when you can smell yourself).

He was rather disappointed, therefore, when Aziraphale wasn’t in the dining room or the adjacent kitchen.

“Where’s your new boss?” he asked Eric, who was helping himself to stew.

“I think he’s still at the lodge kitchen,” Eric said. “He’s been faffing around all day, trying to get everything sorted out to his satisfaction. When I left, he was mixing up dough for brioche.”

“What’s that?” Crowley asked, his mind, as always, latching onto an irrelevant detail and refusing to let go.

“Brioche?” Eric said. “It’s a type of bread, but rich and kinda sweet. I guess he wants to let it rise overnight to bake it for breakfast.”

“Oh,” Crowley said, stupidly. “Okay, then.”

He quickly served up a plate of food for himself and made his way back to his room, oddly disappointed in the way the evening had turned out. Oh well, nothing that a beer and a few episodes of the Golden Girls wouldn’t fix.

\--

He was halfway through the second episode (and the second beer, but no need to mention that) when he heard the scream. Somehow he recognised the voice as Aziraphale’s, even though there was no way he should know the man’s voice that well after one brief conversation. He ran outside, trying to figure out where it had come from, walking in what he thought was the right direction. Another shout, and now he could clearly hear that it was coming from one of the bungalows near the end; one of the ones that had been standing empty for some time. Guess that was where Aziraphale was staying, he thought as he ran over.

“Aziraphale?” he called out as he pushed through the front door. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“In here,” came a strangled voice from the bedroom.

Crowley had to stifle a giggle at the sight that greeted him: Aziraphale was standing with a blanket held in front of him like a shield, while on the bed a brown snake regarded him with polite interest, flicking its tongue out to taste the air. Crowley immediately recognised it as a brown house snake, one of the most abundant snakes on the reserve.

He leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “I see you have a visitor,” he said.

Aziraphale closed his eyes. “Yes,” he said in a strained voice. “Could you call someone to get rid of it, please?”

“No need,” he said, pushing off from where he was leaning and sauntering over to the bed. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“Careful!” Aziraphale admonished, a slightly panicked edge to his voice. “Don’t let it bite you!”

“This little thing?” Crowley said nonchalantly, bending to pick up the slim brown snake, probably not even a meter long. “Nah. Completely harmless.”

Of course, the snake picked that moment to latch onto the tender web of skin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Ouch, you bugger!” Crowley exclaimed. He drew his hand back, and was surprised to see a bit of blood beading at the bite. Great. What a way to impress your new crush – get wounded by the most harmless snake in all of Africa. Real classy, Crowley.

“Oh no!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Oh, my dear, are you okay? Should I call someone? An ambulance?”

Crowley chuckled. “I’m fine. It’s not venomous. Doesn’t even have proper fangs, real-l-y...”

Crowley’s voice tapered off, because a soft hand was suddenly holding his, turning it gently this way and that to inspect the wound.

“Well, we should at least clean that up,” Aziraphale said decisively. “Come along.” He towed Crowley to the bathroom, still holding his hand. Crowley followed, dumbstruck. The snake watched them dispassionately from where it was still perched on the bed.

Once in the bathroom, Aziraphale directed Crowley to sit on the toilet while he rummaged around in a bag, eventually producing some cotton wool and a tube of antiseptic ointment. “There we go,” he said brightly. “Soon have you fixed up.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing, really.” The bite wasn’t even bleeding anymore. Scratches and scrapes were a part of everyday life as a game ranger; if he got hurt like this out in the veld, he’d probably just lick it clean and carry on working.

Nevertheless, he sat still and let Aziraphale fuss over him, carefully cleaning the bite with damp cotton wool. He wasn’t about to pull his hand away, not when those lovely soft fingers were caressing his so gently. He couldn’t help but notice the contrast with his own, rough and calloused, dirt stuck under the fingernails that no amount of scrubbing would remove. He winced internally to think what his hands must feel like to Aziraphale. But still, he sat motionless, enjoying every gentle touch.

“There you go, my dear,” Aziraphale said with a smile. “All done.”

“Thanks,” Crowley managed what must have been a very dopey smile as he stood up.

Only when they got to the room did he realise the snake was still there. “Let me just get this guy out of here for you,” Crowley said.

“Oh, do be careful, please,” Aziraphale admonished.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be caught the same way twice,” he chuckled. This time he was careful to grasp the snake behind its head so that it couldn’t bite. He picked it up and let it wind its body around his forearm. “There we go, my beauty,” he cooed at the snake, running the finger of his free hand along the top of its head. “Soon have you out of here and back where you belong.”

“Aren’t you going to kill it?” Aziraphale asked.

“Never!” Crowley exclaimed. “These guys are champion mouse hunters; I love having them around.” Truthfully, Crowley would never kill any animal if he could help it, with the exception of the truly venomous snakes. Even big, hairy spiders were carefully caught and relocated outside. “I’ll just release it out in the veld,” he explained.

“Oh. Well, get along then,” Aziraphale said. “Useful they may be, but I shudder to think of them in my house.”

“Better get used to it,” Crowley teased. “You’re out in the bush now. Snakes, spiders, scorpions, lizards, we have them all.” Aziraphale was looking a little alarmed at this, so Crowley quickly added, “But hey, call me any time if you need pest removal. There’s not much that bothers me.”

“Oh, thank you,” Aziraphale replied with a soft smile. “That’s good to know. A real knight in shining pyjamas, you are.”

For the first time, Crowley considered that he had already been dressed for bed when he heard Aziraphale’s cry. He realised that he was clothed in nothing but boxer shorts and a t-shirt so oversized that the shorts weren’t even really necessary, at least from a decency point of view. Ah, fuck.

\---

Aziraphale watched from the front door as Crowley walked a little way away from the bungalows to release the snake. Turned out he even did that sexy walk when he was wearing flipflops and pyjamas. Good lord, the man could have been half snake himself, the way he swayed those hips. Sinful, that’s what it was. And his legs, they seemed to go on for miles; especially with that t-shirt making it look like he wasn’t wearing any pants...

Aziraphale mentally scolded himself. The man was his co-worker, not some kind of... of eye candy. Besides, there was no way it would be anything. He mentally listed off the reasons to himself: first off, who was to say Crowley was interested in men (although Aziraphale had never seen an entirely straight man walk like _that_. What was that song he heard the other day, about hips not lying? If Crowley were straight, his hips could out-fib a politician.)

Anyway, even if Crowley were into men, it’s highly unlikely that he’d be interested in Aziraphale – he was young and fit and effortlessly sexy; everything Aziraphale was not. And even if, somehow, he was interested (and that was a _big_ if), there was one other problem: their employers. When they were sorting out their employment contracts earlier, Uriel had taken some pains to point out that any form of romantic or other entanglements between staff members was strictly forbidden; apparently, there had been an unfortunate incident in the past. Michael had assured Uriel that they would all abide strictly by the rules, while Gabriel shot him a _‘not that you’re at any risk of breaking *that* rule’_ look. Amazing how he could pack so much condescension into a single glance.

So, long story short, there wouldn’t be anything between him and Crowley. Well, okay, there could be friendship – in fact, Aziraphale rather hoped there would be. And he could admire the man from afar. But that would be the extent of it.

~

The next morning, Aziraphale was up before dawn. They were expecting that corporate group around mid-morning, and Gabriel had instructed him to have tea and coffee ready with a little snack. He had decided on a citrus-flavoured sugared brioche, one of his favourites, but it meant an early start: he needed to go get the brioche dough out of the fridge and portion it so that it could proof before baking.

“You’re up early,” he heard a voice behind him as he was closing his door. Crowley!

“I could say the same for you,” he retorted. “What sort of conservation activities need to take place before the sun is up?”

Crowley laughed. “None, strictly speaking, but it’s easier to do the hard work while it’s still cool. And you? There aren’t any guests that need breakfast, are there?”

“Not today,” Aziraphale answered, “But I have some brioche to prepare for baking.”

“Oh, is that the fancy stuff Eric said you were mixing up last night?” Crowley asked.

Had Crowley asked Eric about him? Why? Surely he... no, not going there.

“I imagine it is,” Aziraphale responded instead. “They have to rise for an hour or two before I can bake them, and the guests are due around ten, so I’d better get a wiggle on.”

“A wiggle on?” Crowley teased, wiggling comically.

“Oh, shush,” Aziraphale said. “If you make fun of me, I won’t save you any.”

He really did have to get a move on, though, so they said their goodbyes and he made his way to the kitchen. He soon lost himself in the familiar work; kneading and shaping the dough and setting it aside to proof before starting with preparations for the rest of the day’s meals. Eric joined him at eight, and they quickly fell into a comfortable working rhythm.

He was surprised when Crowley appeared at the back door around half past nine. “Smells good in here,” he quipped. That at least was true; the brioche was just about ready to come out of the oven, and the aroma was heavenly.

“Hello Crowley! You’re just in time,” he said brightly. “Let me just get these out of the oven.”

He took the pans out of the oven one by one and tipped the individual rolls out onto a cooling rack with a practiced hand. Somehow he knew Crowley’s eyes were following his every move, even behind his sunglasses.

He picked up one of the buns and handed it over to Crowley, who immediately took an enormous bite. Crowley’s eyes grew wide. “Fuck,” he managed around the mouthful. “That’s amazing.”

Aziraphale beamed with pride. “Here, let me get you another one to go.” He quickly wrapped up two more rolls in a paper serviette and handed them over, noticing with interest that the first had already disappeared.

“Thanks,” Crowley said, taking the parcel. “These really are good. Almost as sweet as you,” he added with a wink.

“Flatterer,” Aziraphale said, looking down shyly. “Now shoo before Gabriel catches you here.”

“Sure, sure,” Crowley said, turning to go. “See you at dinner?”

“Oh, I doubt it,” Aziraphale answered, causing Crowley’s smile to drop. “I have to feed the guests,” he clarified. “I’ll probably just eat here.”

“Oh, of course.” Crowley said. “See you... around, then, I guess.”

When Aziraphale turned back, Eric was staring at him. “Oh my God!” he said. “Was Crowley _flirting_ with you?”

“What? No! I’m sure you’re mistaken.” As much as Aziraphale might have liked for Crowley to flirt with him, the very idea was preposterous.

“Oh no?” Eric retorted with a grin. “’Almost as sweet as you’? ‘See you at dinner’? You know, he was even asking after you last night. Oooh, I bet he _likes_ you!”

“Oh, I’m sure he was just being friendly,” Aziraphale said.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Eric retorted. “Crowley doesn’t do friendly. I’ve been here since forever, and I’ve never known him to be more than polite. Not friendly, and definitely not flirty.”

“Oh, you’re ridiculous,” Aziraphale huffed. “Now stop making up silly stories and get back to work.”

“Sure, sure,” Eric relented with a smile, and turned his attention back to the vegetables he was chopping.

If only it was that easy for Aziraphale to keep his mind on the job at hand. Instead, his thoughts kept wandering to swaying hips and hair the colour of autumn leaves.

Damn, damn, damn.

### Notes

  * This is a PSA: please do not pick up a snake if you do not know 100% for certain what it is! Some of them can kill you in interesting and painful ways. But please, don’t kill the non-venomous ones – they’re excellent pest-controllers.
  * The brioche I’m imagining is this one: <https://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/brioche-au-sucre>. I first encountered it in hope_in_the_dark’s lovely fic [The Realm of You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23697235/chapters/56896201). Both the fic and the brioche are highly recommended.




	3. Hot chocolate, angels and demons.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys get to know each other a bit better, and Aziraphale meets the rest of the rangers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pining intensifies*

It was Saturday night, the last night of the corporate group’s stay, and Crowley would be _so fucking glad_ to see the back of them. Bunch of city-types with no respect for the delicate balance of nature, tramping through the veld, killing the spiders and picking the wildflowers.

Gabriel had really been leaning into his whole eco-tourism bit. Which is why Crowley was out in the reserve at nine PM with a Landy[3] full of guests: apparently night game drives were all the rage in safari circles.

Now, Crowley wouldn’t say that night drives didn’t have their merits. He loved being out in the veld at night, with nothing but the starlight and the busy night-time sounds of the bush for company. He treasured the opportunity to see those animals that only ever come out after dark, flashing his torch at the trees to look for shining eyes.

But doing all of the above with a truck full of tourists was another matter entirely. For one thing, they insisted he keep the Landy’s lights on the whole time, even when they were standing still, and they made so much noise that every animal in a five-kilometre radius must have fled. And one woman was in near hysterics when she noticed the bats flying overhead, convinced they would get tangled up in her hair.

They did at least see a few animals, including a bush baby and a large porcupine (“no, ma’am, I promise they can’t shoot their quills out; could you please stop yelling?” Fuck’s sake, where did these people learn about animals, from Far Side cartoons?). Everyone seemed quite satisfied with the outing in the end. Still, Crowley was greatly relieved when he finally pulled up at the lodge to return them for the night.

He was surprised to find Aziraphale waiting for them, and decided (for reasons he’d rather not examine too closely) to get out and go say hi.

“Surprised to see you’re still up here,” he said by way of greeting.

“Gabriel wanted us to serve hot drinks for the guests when they got back,” Aziraphale explained. “Care to join us?”

Well, no fucking way was he turning down an offer to hang out, no matter how loudly his bed was calling. With all the activity involved in hosting the guests, they hadn’t had time for more than a passing hello in the last few days.

“Lead on,” Crowley said.

They ended up in the kitchen – Crowley could probably get away with mingling with the guests, but he didn’t particularly care to. Aziraphale left Eric in charge of serving drinks, just grabbing two mugs of hot chocolate. Once in the kitchen, he disappeared into a storeroom, only to emerge with a bottle of Tia Maria.

“How about some grownup hot chocolate?” he asked, wiggling the bottle.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Crowley said. He watched as Aziraphale poured a generous measure of liqueur into each mug and handed one to him.

Aziraphale took a deep draught from his mug. “Hmmm,” he moaned, expression of pure bliss settling on his face. “That’s just what I need tonight.”

Holy fucking _fuck_. Who the hell told Aziraphale this was okay, making such pornographic noises over a mug of hot chocolate? Crowley took a sip from his own mug to stop his mouth from saying something stupid, something like _what else can I do to make you moan like that? What else do you need? Let me give it to you, anything you want._

Damn, that was actually pretty delicious. He took another sip. “Nice. I should let you make me hot chocolate more often,” he teased.

“Anytime, my dear,” Aziraphale said, taking another long sip. Then he let his head flop down on his arms, resting on the counter. “God, I’m exhausted. This has been a looong weekend.”

Crowley hummed in agreement. “At least they’ll be gone tomorrow. You can take a nice afternoon nap.”

“Sounds good,” Aziraphale said, his voice muffled against the countertop. “And maybe tomorrow I can finally join you all for dinner.”

“That would be great,” Crowley answered, while thinking _me, join me. To hell with the rest of them._

They sat in companionable silence for a while, Crowley sipping his hot chocolate and Aziraphale... well, apparently Aziraphale was falling asleep where he sat, because he gave a small snore. Why was that so adorable? _Jesus, Crowley, get a grip on yourself. Stop oozing affection all over the nice clean kitchen floor._

He allowed himself a moment to look at Aziraphale, just take in the gentle curves of his belly and hips under the white jacket. God, how he’d love to run his hands over them, to press that soft body close to his bony, angular one.

Crowley shook his head, forcing himself out of his fantasies. It was probably best to wake Aziraphale before he fell too deeply asleep and slipped off the chair.

“Hey,” he said. When that didn’t get any reaction, he laid a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder and gave a gentle shake. Aziraphale jerked up, looking around confusedly.

“You’re falling asleep in the kitchen,” Crowley said with a chuckle. “Maybe it’s time for bed, yeah?”

“Yes, maybe,” Aziraphale said. “Let me just...” he gestured vaguely to where the guests still were.   
“I’ll take care of it,” Crowley said, and quickly made his way back to the dining area.

“Hey, Eric,” he said to Aziraphale’s minion. “Your boss is falling asleep back there, I’m taking him to bed.” _Fuuuuck_ , did he just say that? “I mean I’m taking him to his place. So he can go to bed. Alone. Um. Close up here, will you?”

“Sure thing, you go take care of him,” Eric said with a knowing grin. Crowley decided he couldn’t deal with that right now.

“All sorted,” he said to Aziraphale when he got back to the kitchen. “Eric will finish up. C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

“Thank you, dear,” Aziraphale murmured, getting up from his chair and slipping an arm through Crowley’s. Yup, that settled it – Aziraphale was sleepwalking.

“Let’s go, then,” Crowley said, leading the way to the door. They walked the moderate distance to the staff quarters, leaving the Landy parked in front of the lodge. Crowley would be damned if he would pass up the opportunity to take a walk with Aziraphale holding on to his arm.

Far too soon they reached Aziraphale’s bungalow.

“There you go,” Crowley said. “Home safe and sound.”

“Thank you, dear,” Aziraphale said, smiling up at him and giving his arm a squeeze. God, what Crowley wouldn’t give to be able to lean down and kiss him goodnight. Instead, he stepped back and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“No problem,” he said. “Um. I’ll be off then. Sleep tight.”

“You too,” Aziraphale said. “And – I’ll see you tomorrow?” Was that something hopeful in Aziraphale’s tone? Probably not. But a man could dream.

“Yeah. Course.” Crowley answered. As if any force on heaven or earth could keep him away.

“Good,” Aziraphale said with his soft smile. “Well, goodnight then. Sweet dreams.”

Crowley’s dreams were sweet indeed. And if they centred on a certain chef feeding him sweet pastries and sweeter kisses... well, that was entirely his own business.

\---

Once the guests were on their way the next morning after breakfast and the kitchen was cleaned up, Aziraphale did indeed collapse into bed for a much-needed nap, only waking up shortly before five PM. And as promised, he ate dinner with the rest of the staff, finally getting to share a meal with his new co-workers.

Well, okay, he mostly had dinner with Crowley. They started out as a group – all the rangers were there, as well as Tracy and Shadwell, and the twins. It had been a delight to get to know some of the other people; until now he’d only really talked to Eric and Crowley. He learned that Tracy and Shadwell had been married for years (and they were, without a doubt, the oddest pairing he’d ever seen – the genial, free-spirited mother hen and the crusty, grumpy old grouch); he learned that Beez was a specialist entomologist who wasn’t particularly interested in any animal with fewer than six legs; he learned that the twins had more or less grown up on the farm with their mother, who had worked there but since moved on to bigger things. Hastur and Ligur were a bit of a mystery, though; they seemed almost joined at the hip, rarely spoke to anyone except each other, and projected a menacing aura that was frankly a little disconcerting.

“And where are the archangels tonight?” Beez asked him at some point. “Too good to slum it down here with the likes of us?”

“The who?” Aziraphale asked, confused.

“The archangels: Gabriel, Michael, Uriel,” Beez said at if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well, that is a rather strange coincidence,” Aziraphale said, smiling. “Funny thing, I’m also named after an angel. Not an archangel, though.”

Beez laughed at this. “What does that make us, the demons?”

“Yeah,” Crowley said. “I can just see it: Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies.”

Beez shrugged. “Works for me,” they grinned. “And Hastur and Ligur, you can be Dukes of Hell.”

“What about me?” Crowley said, with mock outrage. “Aren’t I a duke of hell?”

“Nah,” Beez said, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re a baby.”

“Oh, no,” Aziraphale interjected. “Surely you’d be the serpent of Eden.” Far too tempting for anyone’s good, is what he thought.

“Wot?” Crowley gave him a wide-eyed look of amusement.

“I mean,” Aziraphale explained, a little flustered, “You certainly seemed to get along well enough with that snake the other night.”

This prompted a retelling of the snake incident, by the end of which Hastur was giggling hysterically and Shadwell was grumbling about snakes being the _spawn o’ Satan._ No-one paid him any heed, though; that was just his way.

All in all, it had been a pleasant dinner, but Aziraphale was still glad when everyone eventually trailed off to their rooms, leaving only him and Crowley.

They sat together in the now-deserted dining room, talking about this and that for well over an hour, until Crowley gave an enormous yawn.

“My goodness,” Aziraphale teased, “If I weren’t so wide around the waist, you’d have swallowed me just now.”

Crowley regarded him critically. “Nah, your waist’s just perfect. Bet I could swallow you easy-peasy.”

Aziraphale felt his cheeks flush at the unintended innuendo. Was it unintended? He assumed so, judging by the bright shade of red also staining Crowley’s cheeks.

They were saved from having to talk their way out of that awkward situation by another monstrous yawn overtaking Crowley.

“That settles it; off to bed with you,” Aziraphale said, getting up.

“Yeah,” Crowley said. “Some of us didn’t sleep all afternoon, you know.”

“And some of us don’t have to be up at the crack of dawn, either,” Aziraphale teased.

“That’s right,” Crowley said. “Rub it in. What kind of angel are you anyway?”

“The kind that’s an angel in name only, I think you’ll find,” Aziraphale said.

“Not just name. Looks, too. You look all... angelic.” Crowley was waving a hand vaguely in his direction.

“And you’re so tired you’re getting delirious,” Aziraphale retorted, feeling flattered despite himself. Looking angelic was a good thing, right?

They walked toward the bungalows, reaching Crowley’s first.

“Here you are,” Aziraphale said brightly. “Goodnight, Crowley.”

“Night, pretty angel,” Crowley answered. “Sleep tight.”

“You too, my dear,” Aziraphale said, grateful that the darkness would hide the blush he was sure was creeping across his cheeks. Charming serpent.

### Notes

3 A Landy is a Land Rover – specifically, in this setting, one of those with seats on the back that they use on safari tours. Many of them aren’t even Land Rovers, but somehow the nickname “Landy” has stuck.[return to text]


	4. Sunrise surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Aziraphale doesn't have any guests to babysit, they can spend some real time together.

Despite his teasing, Aziraphale was still up before dawn the next day. He had been running in an early rising groove for most of his life, and it would take more than one rough weekend to reset his body’s alarm clock. Besides, his nap the previous afternoon had paid up quite a lot of his sleep debt.

He made a cup of tea and decided to drink it out on the stoep, vaguely thinking he might see if he could catch the sunrise.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised to see Crowley coming out of his bungalow, presumably off to do whatever it was he did in the early morning hours.

“Morning, angel,” he said, grinning. “What happened to sleeping in?”

“Pff, sleeping is overrated,” Aziraphale said, waving his free hand dismissively. “I’d much rather watch the sunrise. Where are you off to?” he asked.

“Fixing the bird hide down by the dam.” Crowley looked off into the distance for a moment, hesitating. “Say,” he finally said, “You wanna come with? ‘S not like you have to serve breakfast, and I bet the sunrise would look a lot nicer out there.”

Spend the morning with Crowley? Alone? Against his better judgement, there was nothing Aziraphale would like better.

“Give me two minutes,” he said, and slipped back into the house. He quickly shucked off his pyjamas, trading them out for a comfy old pair of jeans and a short-sleeved button-down shirt. He speed-brushed his teeth and, as an afterthought, grabbed a book to take with him. Crowley would be working, after all; he wouldn’t be able to chat the whole time.

When he got back outside, Crowley was wating in his bakkie. “We will be back for lunch, right?” he asked.

“Sure,” Crowley nodded “I can bring you back any time anyway. It’s not that far of a drive.”

“Splendid! Let’s be off! But just stop at the kitchen for a moment, if you don’t mind.”

Crowley complied, and Aziraphale quickly darted inside, emerging with a makeshift picnic of blueberry muffins, fruit and juice. “Right, now we’re all set,” he said brightly, getting back into the bakkie.

The drive out to the dam was an adventure of a different sort. It was a dirt road, of course, and therefore full of bumps and twists. Crowley, on the other hand, drove as if he was piloting a Ferrari down the highway. Aziraphale just braced one hand on the dash and the other on the ceiling, and held on for dear life.

Thankfully, due to Crowley’s demonic driving style, the ride was over quickly, and they arrived at the dam just as the sun was starting to peek out over the horizon.

Crowley had been right about that, at least: the sunrise over the water was a magnificent sight. Aziraphale settled himself on a handy rock and drank in the sight, as Crowley walked back and forth between the bakkie and the hide, unpacking his tools and setting up for the work he had to do. He paused behind Aziraphale at one point. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” he said with a smile. “It’s one of my favourite spots, this.”

“It’s lovely, my dear,” Aziraphale said. “Thank you so much for bringing me.”

“Anytime, angel,” Crowley replied with a smile. He peered out over the water. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and get a visit from the elephants.”

“Oh my, that would be something,” Aziraphale said. “But just to be clear, is there anything out here that could eat us?”

Crowley laughed. “Nah. You know we don’t have predators. But there are the elephants, and a few rhinos, grumpy buggers, they are, so don’t go wandering off by yourself. Oh, and there are hippos in the dam. But they won’t bother you if you don’t bother them.”

“Well then, I think I’ll stay right here. Close to the bakkie, in case of emergency.”

Aziraphale sat on his rock, watching as the bush woke up. First to wake were the birds, filling the air with song and the fluttering of wings. Once it was light, a succession of animals came down to the water to drink: a small herd of zebra, a family of warthogs with their tails sticking up like radio antennas, various types of buck, and even a couple of giraffes. Aziraphale took it all in, savouring the moment. He would vehemently deny that this included letting his eyes wander to a certain lanky redheaded game ranger every few minutes, but then, who could blame him if they did? Crowley was every bit as breathtaking as the scenery.

\---

Crowley was hard at work stripping off the old, torn camouflage netting from the hide. Almost done, then he could start replacing it with new camo – a different brand, that would hopefully last a bit longer, so that he wouldn’t have to do this again for a few years.

He ran the back of one hand over his forehead, already slick with sweat in the morning sun. It was getting hot, and he thought he might stop for a drink of water soon.

Just then Aziraphale appeared behind him. “Care for some breakfast?” he asked, holding out a bottle of juice.

Crowley turned and smiled at him. “You really are an angel,” he said, grabbing the bottle with his free hand and downing half of it in one gulp.

They settled on the wooden benches inside the hide, and Aziraphale distributed the bounty.

“Hmm, these are good,” Crowley said around a mouthful of muffin. “Did you make them?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale answered. “I have a bit of a soft spot for baked goods. I’m sure it shows.”

“What?” Crowley was a bit confused by this last statement.

“I just mean, I’m sure I look like someone who enjoys a few too many pastries. You know.” Aziraphale shrugged nervously.

Oh, no, no, no. Fuck no. None of that. “Aziraphale,” he said, slowly and clearly. “I need you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say.” Aziraphale looked up at him with a puzzled expression. Crowley held his gaze, trying to project how earnest he was. “Please don’t think I’m a weirdo, but you need to know – you are _bloody gorgeous_. Please don’t say stupid things like that about your body, cause there’s not one single fucking thing wrong with it. Okay?”

Aziraphale’s eyes had widened almost comically during Crowley’s speech, and his mouth was hanging ever so slightly open.

“Okay?” Crowley prompted again.

“Okay, then,” Aziraphale managed, his voice a little hoarse.

“Thank you,” Crowley said. “I’ll stop being a creep now. Anyway...” He cast around for something to say, to lift the sudden weirdness in the atmosphere. “Point is... what was the point again? Oh yeah. Point is, fabulous muffins. Might even convert me to eating breakfast, at this rate.”

“You don’t usually?” Aziraphale asked, sounding a little alarmed.

“Nah, I’m up and out too early. Just have coffee, and eat at lunch.”

“Well, that simply won’t do,” Aziraphale fussed at him. “You can’t be working all morning on an empty stomach. Starting tomorrow, you’re letting me pack you something to take with you. No arguments.”

Crowley was a bit surprised at the vehemence of Aziraphale’s reaction. He wasn’t used to anyone caring much about his welfare.

It felt... nice.

“Well, okay then, I guess. Thanks. Guardian angel of the kitchen,” he added with a wink.

Aziraphale smiled oh so prettily, and turned his attention back to his own breakfast.

Once they were finished, he got back to work, and noticed Aziraphale had pulled out a book.

“What’re you reading?” he asked, curious to learn anything more about this lovely man.

“A murder mystery – Recipes for Love and Murder[4],” Aziraphale answered, tilting the book so he could see the cover.

“What, is it about a killer chef? Or just a very bad one?” Crowley teased.

“Oh no, the cook is the detective, as it were. And the recipes look superb. There’s a recipe for what she calls a Venus chocolate cake in here that sounds simply scrumptious.” Aziraphale was getting that _look_ on his face, the one that usually surfaced when he was faced with something sweet and delicious. _Dear God_ , Crowley would buy him every cake in the country if it meant he could get to see that expression.

“Well, as long as you stick to the recipes for love,” Crowley said. “Please don’t try the ones for murder out on us.”

Aziraphale laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So, do you read a lot of whodunnits?” Crowley asked, keen to keep the conversation going. “You don’t seem the type for murder.”

“It’s not my preferred genre, I’ll admit,” Aziraphale said, “But I’ll read just about anything. This one caught my eye because of the food component, and I have to say it hasn’t disappointed.”

“What do you prefer, then?” Crowley asked.

“Oh, silly things. Romance. Poetry. And the classics, of course. Oh, and I read recipe books like they’re novels,” he added with a chuckle. “What do you like to read?” he asked Crowley.

Ah, damn. Should have seen that coming. “I don’t really read much,” he admitted. Aziraphale looked as if he was a little horrified and trying valiantly to hide it, so he clarified. “It’s not that I don’t like stories, but I struggle with reading. I have dyslexia, so it’s far too much effort to count as fun.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale said. “That must be awful.”

“It was at school,” Crowley admitted. “Out here it’s not so much of a problem. If I really want to read something, I get the audiobook. Or wait for the movie. I watch a lot of movies.”

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale brightened at that. “What’s your favourite?”

“That changes at least a few times a year,” Crowley said. “But at the moment, I’d say Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Oh, that’s the one about that musician, isn’t it?” Aziraphale said.

“ _’That musician’_?” Crowley repeated with mock indignation. “Freddie Mercury was the front man of the best band ever to grace the earth with their art!”

“I’m afraid I’m not terribly up to date with modern music,” Aziraphale admitted.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley groaned, “Freddie died almost thirty years ago. Queen is not exactly on the cutting edge of contemporary music.”

“My dear, anything after about 1960 is modern for me,” Aziraphale laughed.

“Well then, we’ll just have to watch the movie,” Crowley suggested. “At least catch you up to somewhere in the last fifty years or so.”

“That sounds splendid,” Aziraphale said, sounding pleased.

“And in return,” Crowley continued, “I’ll watch your favourite movie. What is it?”

“Well, I’d have to say it’s a tie between two films,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “Dead Poets Society, and Babette’s Feast.”

“I’ve seen Dead Poets Society. Awfully depressing.” Aziraphale opened his mouth as if to protest, but Crowley cut him off. “Never heard of the other one, though.”

“I’m not surprised,” Aziraphale said. “It’s a Danish film, kind of... artsy, I guess you’d say.”

“And what’s it about? Food? I’ll bet it’s about food,” Crowley said, grinning. Aziraphale’s eye roll told him he was on the money.

“You’ll just have to watch it and find out, won’t you?” Aziraphale said.

“Well, I hope we can get it on YouTube.” Crowley said. “Somehow, I don’t think Netflix is big on old Danish art films.”

“I have the DVD, so we can watch it anytime you like. Tonight, even, if you’re not busy.” Crowley’s brain supplied an image of the two of them watching a movie on his laptop, huddled closely together on the couch, or perhaps... the bed? Yes please!

“It’s a date,” Crowley said, and then wanted to bite his own tongue off. But Aziraphale just smiled and turned back to his book, the ghost of a blush creeping across is cheeks. Or maybe it was just the heat. Probably. Ten to one, Aziraphale wouldn’t even want to watch it alone with him, he’d probably want to put it on in the lounge for everyone to enjoy.

Either way, Crowley decided to shut his mouth and carry on with his work before he said something else incriminating.

~

The morning passed without further incident, but with plenty of rambling conversations in-between reading and working. Crowley managed to finish the job by the time they had to head back for lunch. He was pleased that he wouldn’t have to come back to this again later, Satan knew he had enough other work to get done. And now he had a maybe-sort-of movie date lined up for tonight? Fucking perfect.

The perfect was spoiled when they ran into Gabriel just as they got back to the lodge.

“Aziraphale! Where have you been?” Gabriel asked, in a tone that was probably supposed to sound jovial, but had overtones of scolding.

“Why, is there a problem?” Aziraphale asked nervously. “I didn’t have any work to do in the kitchen, and Eric was there.”

“No, no. No problem as such. But we don’t pay you to go on joyrides in working hours, you know.”

Crowley had been listening to this exchange with interest, noting the way Aziraphale seemed to cringe back and fold in on himself under Gabriel’s scrutiny. He decided it was time to intervene.

“Oh, we were working,” Crowley interjected. “I’ve been thinking about that idea of yours, to take guests out to the dam for sundowners. So, I asked Aziraphale to come have a look at the place and see what can be done out there, catering wise.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Did you, now? That’s very... commendable.” He turned to the chef. “And, Aziraphale? What do you think?”

Crowley felt a bit guilty that Aziraphale was being put on the spot like that, but he rose to the occasion like a champ.

“Oh, it’s a very scenic location. The facilities are rather limited, of course – we would have to arrange for more seating, perhaps some tables and cooking equipment if we want to do something like breakfast out there. But for cocktails and canapes, which can be mostly prepared in the kitchen? I think it would be marvellous.”

Crowley could just see the wheels turning in Gabriel’s head at the mention of breakfasts, so before he could get too carried away, he interrupted.

“I still haven’t spoken to Beez about it, though,” he reminded Gabriel. “They still have the last word.”

“Of course, of course,” Gabriel said, “But I’m sure you’ll make them see reason. Right?” Crowley thought there was something vaguely threatening in the way Gabriel asked, but he shrugged it off.

“No-one _makes_ Beez do anything,” he reiterated. “But I’ll put the idea on the table. That’s all I can promise.”

“Excellent!” Gabriel clapped his hands together as if he’d just gotten enthusiastic agreement rather than lukewarm assent. “Aziraphale, come see me in my office when you’re done here.” And with that, he turned on his heel and strode off.

“Good save,” Aziraphale said, once Gabriel was out of earshot.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Crowley said. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that Beez shoots it down. Don’t want to make more work for you.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Aziraphale replied. “It could be fun, perhaps. Getting out of the kitchen every once in a while.”

“Yeah?” Crowley asked. “You’d want to do something like that?”

“Certainly!” And besides,” Aziraphale shot him a sideways glance, “It would be nice to work with you.”

Crowley was very nearly bowled over. Aziraphale wanted to work with him! He wanted to actually spend time with him! “Okay, then,” He said. “We’ll talk later, yeah? To sort out the details. Maybe talk to Beez together.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale gave him one of his sunshine smiles. “I’d better run along now, before Gabriel blows a fuse. And then I should probably spend some time in the kitchen, otherwise we won’t have supper tonight. I’ll see you later?”

“Sure,” Crowley replied. “See you at supper. And if you’re still in the mood, we can watch that movie afterwards?”

“That sounds perfect,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley spent the rest of the afternoon walking on air, and hit his thumb with a hammer twice. He hardly even noticed. His mind was filled with daydreams of a beautiful angel who maybe, just maybe, might actually like him back.

### Notes

4 ‘Recipes for Love and Murder’ is an actual novel by Sally Andrew, the first of the Tannie Maria series (the second one is called Tannie Maria and the Satanic Mechanic, which is the best title in the history of titles!). Do yourself a favour and check it out. Quite apart from the excellent plot, the recipes are simply delightful. For the curious, you can find the first two chapters plus that chocolate cake recipe [here](https://www.sallyandrew.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/Book-Extract.pdf).[return to text]


	5. Babette's Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a movie date. Is it a date? Do they want it to be one? Hmmm.  
> What could possibly go wrong?  
> .....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t seen Babette’s feast – you should. It’s kinda hard to get your hands on, but worth it. For the purposes of following this story, it might be a good idea to check out the plot summary on Wikipedia: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Babette%27s_Feast>

_That evening, sometime after supper_

Aziraphale knocked at Crowley’s door, DVD in one hand and a bottle of merlot in the other. He’d had a bit of a debate with himself on that one, but hedonism won out over caution, as it often did. In his opinion, one of the best things about watching movies at home rather than in a cinema was the vastly better quality of the drinks.

“Oh, yes. Now that’s a man after my own heart,” Crowley beamed upon spying the bottle. _Oh, my dear,_ Aziraphale thought, _if you only knew how much I am after your heart._ Then he sternly reprimanded himself for thinking such things. He was not allowed to get romantically entangled with Crowley, no matter much he enjoyed the man’s company, no matter how breathtakingly sexy he found him...

Suddenly, this didn’t seem like such a good idea.

Oh well, nothing for it now but to soldier through. He would keep his hands to himself. He _would._

“Shall I set up on the couch or the bed?” Crowley asked.

“I think the couch,” Aziraphale answered. He didn’t trust his own imagination if he were to be on a bed next to Crowley. It would be hard enough maintaining a respectable distance on a couch.

Aziraphale busied himself opening the wine and pouring them each a glass while Crowley set up his laptop.

“Remember to set it up with subtitles,” Aziraphale said when the main menu came up.

“Subtitles?” Crowley complained. “I told you I don’t like reading!”

“Oh, no, it’s dubbed in English,” Aziraphale reassured him. “There’s just this one piece where they sing in Italian, and it’s actually rather important to the plot that you understand the words.” He paused. “I’ll read it for you when we get to that bit, if you prefer.”

“Let’s see how it goes,” Crowley said.

They settled in on the couch and started the movie playing. As always, Aziraphale was quickly drawn in by the movie; it almost managed to make him forget about the man sitting next to him.  
Almost.

Crowley groaned when Lt. Löwenhielm was saying his goodbyes to Martine, the girl he had fallen in love with but been rejected by. “Is this gonna be another gloomy one?” he asked.

“Shhh,” Aziraphale scolded. “It’s barely even started.”

A few minutes later, they were watching the duet between Philippa, Martine’s sister, and the opera singer Achille Papin. Aziraphale spoke the words aloud as they were singing.

_Give me thy hand, oh fairest;_ _whisper a gentle 'Yes',_ Papin sang, and Aziraphale felt every word; the longing, the wanting to reach out to another. Philippa’s part of the song hit even closer to home: _I tremble, yet I listen; I’m fearful of my joy. Desire, love, and doubting are battling in my heart..._

When the two on-screen started their simultaneous chorus of _heart and hand uniting,_ Aziraphale felt a tentative brush of fingers across the back of his own hand. Oh no, nonono. He couldn’t do this! He froze, not responding, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be reading aloud.

Fortunately, the film saved him very shortly afterwards, when Philippa too, like her sister, sent the young man away.

“The fuck?” Crowley exclaimed, hitting pause. “Is this whole movie just about people falling in love and then running away from it? You can’t tell me those two girls weren’t just as much in love as the men were. Why did they have to go and break their hearts?”

“Well, I suppose they thought they were doing the right thing,” Aziraphale responded. “Choosing a life of piety and service over selfish indulgence.”

“Really?” Crowley said sceptically. “No, I don’t think that’s the whole story. I reckon they were scared.”

“How so?” Aziraphale asked, intrigued by this new perspective.

“Well, falling in love, that’s scary, right?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale nodded. It was bloody terrifying; he could vouch for that. “And pursuing it would mean going against their father’s wishes. Which would be even more scary, since they considered him to be the spokesman for God or some such nonsense.”

Aziraphale nodded again. “So you’re saying that although rejecting the men may have hurt, it was still preferable to the scariness of following their hearts?”

“Exactly,” Crowley said. He leaned back. “Now me, I think that’s nonsense. Every good thing is a little scary. What’s the point if you’re just going to play it safe the whole time? You’ll miss out on all the fun.”

“But see it from their point of view,” Aziraphale argued. “To them, it was not just a matter of feelings, it was a moral choice. Following those men would be... well, sinful. Wrong.”

“And what do you think, angel,” Crowley asked, something intense in his eyes. “Do you think they made the right choice?”

“I’m not so sure,” Aziraphale murmured. To choose the right thing, or the terrifying one that was wrong on paper but felt right? It was a conundrum worthy of the greatest philosophers.

“Regardless,” he went on, pushing such thoughts to the back of his mind, “If they hadn’t said no, the rest of this film wouldn’t have happened. So, let’s carry on watching, shall we?”

Crowley restarted the film, and they settled back to watch it. Soon, they were both lost in the unfolding tale of Babette and the two sisters.

“Ha! I knew it!” Crowley exclaimed in triumph when Babette announced her intention to cook a fine French meal. “It _is_ about food!”

Predictably, he rolled his eyes at the villagers’ insistence that they would spurn all sensual pleasure from the experience. “They’re glorifying all this suffering and self-sacrifice, and for what? More suffering!”

“Shush and watch the film, you fiend,” Aziraphale said, swatting him lightly on the arm. During the course of the film they had drifted closed together, so that they were now sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, their arms pressed together and Crowley’s knee resting lightly against Aziraphale’s thigh. Aziraphale was hyperaware of every point of contact between them. Good thing he’d seen the movie so many times; he never would have been able to concentrate otherwise.

Crowley crowed in delight when Löwenhielm – now a General – showed up again, and chuckled every time he unintentionally derailed the rest of the congregation’s pious plans. Aziraphale giggled along with him; much like the characters on the screen, his inhibitions were faltering under the onslaught of the wine they’d been drinking. Aziraphale wondered if Crowley felt a certain kinship with the soldier, being the voice of indulgence and pleasure amidst all the serious rule-following.

He got his answer, in a way, during Löwenhielm’s after-dinner speech.

_Mercy and truth have met together_ , he began. _Righteousness and bliss shall kiss one another_.

Aziraphale was sure he imagined the little hitch of Crowley’s breath on the word _kiss_. Probably he was just hearing his own breath catch.

_Man, in his weakness and shortsightedness, believes he must make choices in this life,_ the General continued on-screen. _He trembles at the risks he takes. We do know fear_.

Aziraphale’s heart suddenly pounded with... fear? Or something else? – because he felt Crowley’s hand move cautiously to take his own. He should pull away; he knew he should... but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

_But no. Our choice is of no importance_.

Aziraphale risked a sideways glance at Crowley. His eyes were still fixed on the screen, but the tiniest of smiles was playing at the corner of his mouth.

_There comes a time when your eyes are opened. And we come to realize that mercy is infinite. We need only await it with confidence... and receive it with gratitude_.

Aziraphale took a calming breath, and tangled their fingers together. Crowley’s eyes widened, and he turned to look at Aziraphale.

_Mercy imposes no conditions. And, lo! Everything we have chosen has been granted to us. And everything we rejected has also been granted. Yes, we even get back what we rejected_.

They held eye contact for a few long, agonising moments, the air thick with unspoken words. Crowley’s other hand gently came up to brush against Aziraphale’s cheek, and he closed his eyes, leaning into the touch ever so slightly.

_For mercy and truth are met together. And righteousness and bliss... shall kiss one another_.

And so did they.

It was a soft, tentative brush of lips – more a question than a declaration. Aziraphale let himself melt into it, savouring the moment that he’d imagined so many times. Oh, but the reality was so much better than he could ever have dreamed...

And then all his mental alarm bells went off at once. He pulled away, yanking his hand from Crowley’s, panic rising in his chest.

“Angel?” Crowley asked, looking confused at the sudden change in the atmosphere.

“We can’t do this,” Aziraphale gasped.

“I’m sorry,” Crowley stuttered. “I... I thought... Didn’t you want... Fuck! I’m so sorry, Aziraphale. I should have asked first. I’m such an arse! Of course you don’t-”

“No!” Aziraphale cut him off. “No, that’s not...” He ran out of steam. What could he say? His lizard brain was going for ‘take it all back and snog him senseless.’ His anxiety was just yelling at him to ‘run, run, run!’ ‘He wouldn’t want you anyway,’ his insecurities supplied, ‘it was just the heat of the moment.’ Somewhere in there, the voice of reason was struggling to make itself heard, drowned out by every other gut-level reaction.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley took his hands in both of his. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to say no to me, you know. No hard feelings. We’ll still be friends, yeah? Chalk it up to me misreading the situation.”

“No, that’s not it,” Aziraphale finally managed, having calmed down a bit during Crowley’s short speech. “That is to say... You didn’t misread anything. But, you know we can’t.”

Crowley seemed confused. “Why the fuck not? We’re both adults.”

“The _rules_ , Crowley,” Aziraphale said, faintly annoyed that he had to spell it out.

“What rules?” Crowley seemed genuinely lost now.

“The employee rules,” Aziraphale said. “No romantic relationships between staff members? No kissing your co-workers? Any of that ring a bell?”

“Um, no, not really,” Crowley said. “Who told you this?

“Uriel,” Aziraphale answered. “What, she didn’t tell you when you were appointed?

“No, she started here after me,” Crowley said. “Bugger. Must’ve brought that rule in after the thing with Eve.”

“Eve?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yeah. Young woman who worked in the lodge a few years back, religious family. She fell in love with one of the rangers, got pregnant, family flipped out. Made a hell of a scene.”

“Oh. I suppose that makes sense.” Aziraphale conceded.

“Yeah, no it doesn’t. Bunch of self-righteous arseholes who think they can police other people’s sexuality.”

“Well, regardless,” Aziraphale said. “Those are the rules now. And I rather like this job; I’d prefer not to lose it.”

“Right,” Crowley said. “Okay. Fine. But we can still be friends, yeah?”

“Of course, my dear,” Aziraphale said. “I would love to be your friend.” His heart was yelling at him that _no_ , he didn’t want to be _just_ Crowley’s friend, he wanted to be his partner, his lover, his _everything_ ; but he stamped it down and carefully locked it away. Friendship was what he could have, so he would be satisfied with it.

Silence fell suddenly as the movie’s end credits finished playing.

“Well, I suppose that’s my cue,” Aziraphale said, getting up. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Crowley.”

“Pleasure,” Crowley said with a crooked smile. “Even though my favourite part was a bit short lived.” 

“Oh, stop that,” Aziraphale said with a smile, dying inside.

“I mean it,” Crowley said. “I’ll shut up about it after now, I swear, but you should just know – that was probably the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

“You can’t have had many, then,” Aziraphale said with a laugh.

“Not the point,” Crowley said. He walked Aziraphale to the door.

“Goodnight, angel,” he said with a last, sad smile.

“Goodnight, my dear,” Aziraphale answered, before turning and walking away.

He had done the right thing. He knew he had; everything he had ever been taught told him he had. But why oh why, then, did it feel so wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your honour, I put it to you: They're idiots.


	6. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a nice one. That's all I'm saying.

The next time Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves in each other’s company, it was a little awkward, but they quickly got over it and picked up right where they left off. Crowley was thankful for that, at least. It wasn’t what he really wanted, not by a long shot, but if friendship was all that Aziraphale was willing to offer, he would take it.

They didn’t take long to settle into an easy rhythm. As promised, Aziraphale had a packed breakfast ready for Crowley every morning before he went out. And in the evenings, they would always share dinner – Crowley had taken to eating in the kitchen when Aziraphale had guests to feed. Crowley got the first taste of anything special Aziraphale baked, and they shared quite a few bottles of wine over the course of the following months (although Crowley was very, very careful not to let himself get any more than slightly tipsy). It was warm, and comfortable, and driving Crowley _up the fucking walls_. Because it wasn’t enough.

He wanted to be able to thank Aziraphale with a kiss to his cheek when he handed him his breakfast. He wanted to be able to hold Aziraphale’s hand across the dinner table. To use his thumb to swipe away the crumbs from Aziraphale’s lips after he bit into a freshly baked pastry. To taste the lingering flavour of red wine directly from Aziraphale’s mouth. God, how he _wanted_. It wasn’t even sexual. Well, not entirely – that was certainly a part of it. But Crowley wanted more than sex; he wanted tenderness, and romance, and domesticity. He wanted to let their lives bleed together without worrying where that never-quite-clear line was, that line that he didn’t dare to cross.

But Aziraphale didn’t want that. So Crowley sucked it down and enjoyed what he could have.

It all went on like this for a few weeks, until one Tuesday in late March when Gabriel called an emergency staff meeting.

“I’m sure you’re all aware of this coronavirus situation,” Gabriel began, “And you may know that last night the president announced a 21-day national lockdown, starting from Thursday. We will be closed to guests for that period, and wherever you are on Thursday is where you’ll stay. So, those of you that want to go home to your families for the lockdown are free to do so. The office staff and I will be leaving, but Tracy and Shadwell will be staying to take care of the lodge.”

“I’ll also be sticking around,” Beez piped up. “Nature isn’t going into lockdown; someone has to keep an eye on the reserve.”

“Yes, thank you,” Gabriel said, a little irritated at the interruption. “The rest of you, please let me know what you decide.”

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other. “Well, I’ll be staying,” Crowley said. “Like Beez said, the reserve will be business as usual.”

“I should probably go home with Gabriel,” Aziraphale said, wringing his hands. “The family will be expecting me.”

“But do you want to?” Crowley asked, even though it was unnecessary – Aziraphale’s body language was broadcasting reluctance.

“Not particularly, no,” Aziraphale admitted.

“Then stay,” Crowley suggested. “Tell them you’re making sure we get fed, since it sounds like quite a few of us will be sticking around.”

“You know, I think I might just do that,” Aziraphale said, a smile creeping onto his face. “We’ll have to go into town for supplies tomorrow, though.”

“Why? The grocery stores will stay open during the lockdown, won’t they?” Crowley asked. He didn’t much care for the trip into town, over an hour on mostly dirt roads. He was the one with the bakkie, so it usually fell to him to do the supply runs.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “But the liquor stores won’t[5]. And I’m not taking the risk of running out of wine.”

Crowley laughed. “Can’t argue with that. Okay, I’ll put the canopy on the bakkie and we can do a booze run tomorrow.”

In the end, all the rangers stayed on, as well as Tracy, Shadwell and Aziraphale. The twins took the rare opportunity to go visit their mother, and the archangels... well, who knew where they went. The point was, they were gone, and would be for three glorious weeks.

Crowley was beside himself with excitement. Not that he would have less work to do over the coming weeks, Beez would make sure of that; but at least there were no game drives, no tourists to entertain, and no Gabriel peering over their shoulders. Also, the absence of guests meant that Aziraphale would have a lot more time free, and Crowley was hoping they could spend at least some of it together.

Yes, he knew he was hopeless. He’d made peace with that a long time ago.

\--

Crowley got his wish, in a sense. By the third day of the lockdown, Aziraphale asked if he could come with Crowley when he went out to work in the reserve, claiming that it was boring being at the lodge with no work to do. Crowley, of course, did not object in the least. Aziraphale would bring snacks and a book, and settle himself somewhere nearby wherever Crowley was working.

The upside of this was that they spent almost the entire day together. The downside was... well, not a downside, per se, but Crowley couldn’t help falling for Aziraphale just a little more every day. And Aziraphale, knowingly or not, was not exactly making it easy on him, with his kindness and his crinkly-eyed smiles, his casual touches and his habit of calling Crowley ‘my dear’. Honestly, if it weren’t for the clear limits Aziraphale had set on their friendship, Crowley might have thought he was flirting. It was infuriating and excruciating – and Crowley loved every moment of it, in a masochistic sort of way, torturing himself with dreams of what might have been.

Evenings were usually spent watching movies or series together, or playing cards or board games with the rest of the inmates (as they jokingly referred to themselves). 30 Seconds was their collective favourite, especially when alcohol was involved and things got really silly. Hastur and Ligur were forbidden from teaming up, since they had an almost eerie ability to read each other’s minds; they won the first game by a huge margin with explanations like ‘that cricket player with the teeth’ and ‘that other dumb movie you hated’. After that, they’d picked teams by drawing names from a hat. Aziraphale turned out to be everyone’s favourite teammate; he seemed to have memorised every book he’d ever read and could recall an encyclopaedia’s worth of obscure facts at the drop of a hat.

It was during one of these games that Crowley’s interest in astronomy came out, when he spouted off an inordinate number of factoids about the Orion nebula in a ten-second period.

“So, um, you like astronomy?” Aziraphale asked him afterwards, as they were walking back to their bungalows.

“Oh, yes,” Crowley replied. “I got hooked on the stars as a kid. We had a neighbour who was into it. She had a big-ass telescope and everything, and she’d set it up and let me look at the stars and planets, taught me their names and how to find them in the sky. I still remember how amazing it was to see Saturn’s rings for the first time. Guess I just never outgrew it.”

“Do you think... maybe you’d want to show me some of it sometime?” Aziraphale’s voice was strangely tentative, and Crowley couldn’t resist teasing him just a bit.

“You want me to take you stargazing?” he asked innocently. “I don’t know, that sounds awfully romantic to me, lying out on a blanket at night, all alone...”

“I didn’t mean...” Aziraphale began, and stopped. “Forget it.”

“I’m just teasing, angel,” Crowley said. “I’d love to show you the stars. No hanky panky.” _Unless, of course, you want hanky panky_. He added mentally. _Oh, I wish you wanted hanky panky!_

“Really?” Aziraphale’s smile was back.

“Of course,” Crowley grinned. Like he would refuse this man anything. “In fact, let me just check something.” He quickly pulled up the SAAO’s website on his phone, looking at the sky guide for April. Bingo!

“The Lyrid meteor shower is starting in a couple of days; we could have a look at that, if you like. It’ll be in the wee hours of the morning, though – like, 3 am.”

“Oooh, that sounds like fun,” Aziraphale said, eyes bright. “I’ve never seen a meteor shower before.”

“Well, it’s not one of the really big ones, but we should see a few meteors. Especially if we drive out into the veld a bit, away from the light. Maybe we can go on Saturday night. Well, Sunday morning, technically. Then we have Sunday afternoon to take a nap and recover.” Sunday was the one day that Beez always gave them off, barring emergencies.

“That sounds perfect, my dear,” Aziraphale said, looking excited. “It’s a date.”

Crowley wished it were.

“You know,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully, gazing up at the sky. “The only constellation I know is the Southern Cross, and now I’m not even sure I know that anymore. I mean, just look: There’s a cross there, and there, and there. Oh, and there too.” He pointed at different areas in the sky.

Crowley chuckled. “It’s that one,” he said, pointing at it.

“How can you tell?” Aziraphale asked.

“Look for the pointers,” Crowley said. “If you think of the cross as standing upright, then follow the line of the crossbar off to the left, there’s two bright stars. Do you see them?” Crowley pointed as he explained.

“Oh, yes, I do!” Aziraphale said.

“They’re the secret.” Crowley explained. “If you draw a line through them, it connects to the top of the cross. None of the false crosses have pointers like that.”

“Oh, how clever,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley felt himself melt a little under the praise. He had a sudden urge to show off his astronomy knowledge.

“The pointers are part of Centaurus; the one furthest from the cross is called Alpha Centauri and the other one is Beta Centauri. All the constellations have their stars labelled like that with Greek letters; alpha for the brightest, beta for the second brightest and so on. The Cross, too,” he said, pointing out each star in turn: “Alpha, beta, gamma, delta.”

He paused, but Aziraphale looked intrigued, so he went on. “Alpha Centauri might be a bit of a cheat though. It’s actually two stars.”

“Really?” Aziraphale said.

“Yep. It’s what’s known as a binary star; two stars that orbit around a central point somewhere in the middle. Those two are so close together that they look like a single star from here, although you can see them separately with a small telescope.”

“And they don’t crash into each other?” Aziraphale asked.

“Not in our lifetimes, at least,” Crowley said. “They pull each other in with their gravity, but their momentum pulls them apart, and the two forces are balanced just perfectly enough that they cancel each other out.”

“There’s something poetic about that,” Aziraphale mused. “Like star-crossed lovers, pulled apart by circumstances, yet drawn to each other so strongly that they can never really separate. So they just orbit each other at a distance, always looking, never touching. Rather tragic, really...” Aziraphale’s voice trailed off.

Crowley was struck speechless. Where the hell had that come from? It sounded far too much like...

No. Nope. Not going there. Aziraphale was definitely not waxing poetic about their not-a-relationship. Besides, if anything, Aziraphale was the sun and Crowley was a planet orbiting him, caught in his gravitational field, helpless to do anything but stare and yearn. And little planets did not cause so much as a wobble in the sun’s orbit.

\---

Sunday morning at 2 am, Crowley picked Aziraphale up. He’d packed the back of the bakkie with an old foam mattress and all the pillows from his bed, so that they would have somewhere comfy to lie and look at the stars. He also threw in a couple of blankets, since the autumn chill was setting in.

“I brought hot chocolate,” Aziraphale said as he got in, brandishing a thermos flask.

“Perfect!” Crowley smiled, as he put the bakkie into gear and pulled out of the yard.

They sat in silence as Crowley drove them away from the lodge, through the gate and out into the reserve itself. He followed the road as it skirted around a hill until they reached a clearing on the other side, sheltered from the lights of the lodge and with no trees above them to impede their view.

“C’mon,” he said, getting out of the cab and gesturing to Aziraphale. “Won’t see any stars in there.”

Aziraphale gasped when he looked up for the first time. “Oh, my,” he said, “I’ve never seen so many stars in my life.”

Crowley had to agree that it was a breathtaking sight. Out here, away from the smoke and artificial lights, the stars were the undisputed kings of the night sky. The milky way was a band of light slashed across the dark; a smear of glitter spilled on the velvet sky by some celestial giant. That view never got old, no matter how many times he saw it.

Crowley clambered onto the back of the bakkie and held out a hand to Aziraphale, pulling him up behind him. They settled down onto the mattress, and to Crowley’s surprise, Aziraphale scooted right up against his side and pulled one of the blankets over both their legs.

“It’s cold,” he explained with a shrug, in response to Crowley’s questioningly raised eyebrow.

“Then pour us some of that hot chocolate of yours,” Crowley retorted. Aziraphale complied with a smile, pouring the steaming drink into the lid of the thermos.

“I forgot to bring an extra mug,” he said apologetically, “So we’ll have to share.”

“No problem,” Crowley said, taking the cup from Aziraphale and taking a careful sip. “Hmm, this is the good stuff,” he said, and Aziraphale giggled. He’d spiked it again, naughty angel that he was.

They passed the cup back and forth, sipping at the hot liquid, and Crowley felt the warmth of it spreading through his body from the inside. And maybe a little from the outside, where Aziraphale was sitting close enough that he could feel the movements of his breath.

When the hot chocolate was finished, they laid down on their backs, side by side, looking up at the vastness of the universe above them. The night air was cool, and Crowley wanted to snuggle up to Aziraphale for warmth, but he didn’t dare.

“So, where are these meteors of yours?” Aziraphale asked.

“Hmm, should be in Lyra,” Crowley scanned the sky, orienting himself. “Ah, over there,” he said. “You see that bright star?” Aziraphale looked in the direction Crowley was pointing, and nodded.

“That one’s called Vega,” Crowley explained. “The meteors will be in that general area.”

“And what exactly am I looking for?” Aziraphale asked

“Ever seen a shooting star?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Only in films.”

“Close enough,” Crowley said. “Just look for moving points of light.”

They settled back to look. It wasn’t long before they saw the first meteor.

“Crowley, look!” Aziraphale said, grabbing onto his forearm excitedly. Crowley chuckled. This wasn’t new to him, but Aziraphale’s childlike enthusiasm was adorable. A few minutes later, another one streaked across the sky, and another. They were, in truth, not that impressive, faint and infrequent as they were, but Aziraphale seemed delighted.

“You know, in the stories, you can make a wish if you see a shooting star,” Aziraphale mused.

Crowley snorted. “Well then, astronomers have gamed the system,” he said. “We know exactly when the meteor showers come. We can get all the wishes we want.”

“Can you, now?” Aziraphale said, sounding thoughtful.

_No_ , Crowley thought. _Otherwise you’d be lying in my arms._

Aziraphale stirred next to him, and Crowley looked over to see he’d turned on his side, facing toward Crowley. His eyes held something indecipherable.

“What would you wish for, Crowley?” he asked softly.

Crowley sighed. He knew exactly what he would wish for. “Nothing I can have,” he answered sadly.

“Really?” Aziraphale asked. “Isn’t that the magic of a shooting star?”

Crowley looked into his friend’s eyes. In the dark of night, they turned a deep indigo blue, the reflected light of the stars sparkling in them like the glimmer at the heart of the cosmos. Crowley could drown in those eyes, lose himself in their depth, never to be seen again.

Without thinking, he reached out to take Aziraphale’s hand. “There’s not enough magic in the world, angel.”

“I know what I would wish for,” Aziraphale said, still holding Crowley’s gaze.

“Yeah?” Crowley asked, glad to have the conversation move on from his own pointless dreams. “What do you want?”

Aziraphale pulled his hand away from Crowley’s, but then, surprisingly, brought it up to stroke lightly against Crowley’s cheek.

“You,” he admitted in a whisper. “I want you.”

Crowley felt as if the wind had been punched out of him. And he didn’t even get a chance to catch his breath, because the next thing he knew, Aziraphale’s lips were brushing against his for the second time in his life.

And Crowley saw stars.

### Notes

5 True fact. During the initial lockdown period, all alcohol (and cigarette) sales were banned. Alcohol sales resumed on 1 June, but were then stopped again on 12 July because – get this – alcohol-related injuries were clogging up the hospitals to the extent that it was making it difficult to treat COVID patients. I swear, I couldn’t make this stuff up. PS please send wine via parachute drop.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun astronomy fact of the day: The orbit of Alpha Centauri A & B is rather eccentric, so the distance between them varies from ~1.7 to 5.3 billion km. The orbit takes 80 earth-years, so from nearest to furthest (or vice versa) takes 40 years. They were at their furthest apart in 1995, and are moving closer together at the moment; they will be at their closest together again in 2035. They also have a third wheel (Alpha Centauri C, aka Proxima Centauri) which is some 1.9 trillion km away from AB. Proxima is the nearest star to our own sun, at 4.2 lightyears away. Okay, I’ll stop geeking out over astronomy now. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.


	7. Kisses and other fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the stargazing session, during which not much stargazing happens...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be smut. Clearly marked with ~~~~~~~~~, so easy to skip if you're not into that.  
> This is literally just kissing and a little bit of more than kissing. Mountains of fluff.

It had taken all the courage Aziraphale could muster to kiss Crowley, but the moment their lips met something slotted into place in his mind; a sense of _rightness_ that had eluded him even while he was following every rule in the book. Why had he denied himself this for so long? To keep Gabriel and Michael and Uriel off his back? Laughable.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to the last time they’d kissed. From the moment he pulled away he’d regretted it. He wanted – _oh,_ how he wanted that lanky game ranger with his sexy smiles and his hypnotic hips, with his snarky sense of humour and his heart of gold.

But Aziraphale had been far too cowardly to do anything about it, so sure that it would be a massive mistake. And Crowley had been a perfect gentleman, carefully maintaining the distance that Aziraphale had put between them.

But still, every so often, he’d catch Crowley looking at him with such a depth of affection in his eyes... and sometimes, just for a moment, a glimmer of something that looked suspiciously like desire, before it was carefully buried again. And still, Aziraphale was too cowardly to reach out and close that gap, too fearful of the consequences.

But then, when lockdown happened and his managers suddenly weren’t a factor anymore...

Well. Aziraphale had tried to remind himself that it was temporary, that Gabriel and his cronies would be back in a few weeks, that nothing had really changed... but it was a lost cause. In the absence of their dissuading influence, his attraction to Crowley had become irresistible. It was exactly like those binary stars Crowley had told him about – with the centrifugal force removed, he found himself inexorably spiraling in toward Crowley. A collision was inevitable.

Aziraphale didn’t even try to resist it. On the contrary, he welcomed it, willingly surrendering himself to the fall. And tonight... tonight was simply a perfect moment, lying together in the veld, as alone as if they were the last two people on earth, with the vastness of the cosmos stretched out above them. And this kiss, this kiss was not the product of a spur-of-the-moment decision so much as the inevitable consequence of a choice his heart had made long before. He simply didn’t want to fight it anymore.

Crowley pulled away from the kiss, a hand pressing on Aziraphale’s chest, abruptly yanking his thoughts back to the here and now.

“Angel,” he breathed, eyes closed and voice trembling.

“My dear,” Aziraphale said, confused, “Is everything all right?” His hand was still resting against Crowley’s cheek, and he gently stroked his thumb along the sharp cheekbone.

Crowley’s eyes remained stubbornly closed, his voice small as he asked, “What is this?”

“A kiss?” Aziraphale answered, uncertainly.

“Yeah, but,” Crowley went on, “The last time we kissed, you pushed me away, told me there can’t be anything between us. And... Is this just...” Crowley took a breath. “Are you gonna do that again? Cause I can’t, Aziraphale. I can’t kiss you and just forget about it the next day.” Crowley sounded so sad, so defeated, that Aziraphale’s heart broke a little.

“Crowley, my dear,” he said softly, gently, “I don’t want you to forget about it. I know I couldn’t. I never did.”

Crowley’s eyes flew open at this admission.

“You didn’t?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“How could I?” Aziraphale responded fondly. “You are quite the most wonderful man I’ve ever known. Every single day since that night, I’ve wished I weren’t so cowardly, wished I hadn’t rejected the one thing I wanted more than any other.”

“Oh, Angel,” Crowley sighed, and pulled him in for another kiss. Aziraphale leaned into it, savouring the gentle press of Crowley’s lips against his own. To his immense disappointment, Crowley pulled away again before long.

“So we’re doing this?” Crowley asked. “Like... a relationship?”

“I can’t think of anything I want more,” was Aziraphale’s confident answer. The smile that crept over Crowley’s face at those words warmed him to the bone.

“But if you don’t mind,” Aziraphale continued, “I’d very much like to kiss you properly now.”

“Fuck, yes,” was all the warning he got before Crowley dove in, smashing their mouths together, every trace of his earlier hesitation gone.

Where their previous kisses had been hesitant, questioning, this one was declarative. Not rough, but certain, Crowley’s lips strong and sure against his own.

Aziraphale brought his hand around to bury it in Crowley’s hair – he’d been dying to touch it. Crowley seemed to like the idea; he reached back to pull out his hair tie, letting the fiery locks cascade down over his shoulders. Aziraphale ran his hands through it, tangling his fingers in the silky strands, and Crowley moaned with pleasure.

Aziraphale couldn’t resist it when he felt Crowley’s lips part ever so slightly. He let his own mouth fall open and pressed the tip of his tongue gently against Crowley’s lower lip. Crowley met him immediately, sliding their tongues together in a way that sent sparks down Aziraphale’s spine. He kissed back hungrily, wanting to feel more, taste more, more, more, _more_. Crowley yielded willingly, leaning his head back on the pillows even as he pulled Aziraphale close.

They lay side-by-side, getting intimately acquainted with each other’s mouths, hands gently exploring; all very chaste and outside the clothes, but no less intoxicating for it. Aziraphale wondered at the feel of Crowley’s body, all jutting bones and muscle and sinew, so different from his own. He thrilled at the feel of Crowley’s strong hands on his own soft body, especially when he occasionally stopped to knead his fingers into a particularly plush curve, humming in pleasure every time. Aziraphale had never felt so cherished, so desirable. He reveled in it.

At one point, Aziraphale pulled back a bit, just enough to allow him to speak. “Didn’t you want to watch the meteor shower?” he asked, a little breathless.

“Hmm, not much point now,” Crowley answered. “Got my wish, didn’t I?”

Well, Aziraphale couldn’t argue with that. “All your wishes?” he asked, teasingly, running a hand down Crowley’s back to come to rest on his arse. “Or is this just the intro?” He gave a little squeeze.

“Jesus, angel,” Crowley gasped, his hips jerking forward. “What’s got into you?”

“Oh, oh dear, I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said, withdrawing his hands nervously. “Was that out of line?”

“No, nononono,” Crowley said, hurriedly grabbing Aziraphale’s retreating hand and placing it back where it had been. “Just... bit of a sudden change of pace, you know? My brain’s still catching up.”

“But this is okay?” Aziraphale asked, venturing another teasing squeeze of that pretty little bum.

“More than,” Crowley sighed, burying his face in Aziraphale’s neck, gently kissing the soft skin.

“And how about this?” Aziraphale asked, tightening his grip before rolling over onto his back and pulling Crowley over on top of him.

“Jesus!” was all Crowley managed, looking a little cross-eyed.

Aziraphale giggled. “Kiss me, you precious idiot,” he said, bringing one hand up behind Crowley’s head and drawing him near. Crowley dove in like a starving man at a banquet.

Aziraphale found that he rather liked being pinned under Crowley – for one thing, it left both his hands free to roam, and roam they did, exploring every bit of Crowley’s body that he could reach. When his questing fingers found the hem of Crowley’s shirt he tentatively worked his hand in under the fabric, eager to feel Crowley’s skin against his.

“This okay?” he asked, running one hand up Crowley’s side under his shirt while the other rested on the small of his back.

“Fuck, yes,” Crowley shivered. “In fact, let me just-“ He sat up abruptly and pulled his hoodie and t-shirt off with one smooth movement. Before Aziraphale even had a chance to properly take in the vision above him, Crowley’s hands were on the buttons of his shirt.

“Can I?” he asked, pausing.

“Please,” Aziraphale breathed. It faintly occurred to him that he would usually be feeling self-conscious at this point, but he found that his only worries were the cold and, perhaps, the mosquitoes. The way Crowley looked at him, like he was about to unwrap a long-awaited gift, left no room for self-doubt.

Crowley made quick work of the buttons, opening Aziraphale’s shirt with gentle hands to reveal his body. He splayed his hands on Aziraphale’s chest and ran them reverently down his sides, ending with them resting where his waist would have been if he weren’t so round.

“Fuck, Angel,” Crowley said, eyes roving over Aziraphale’s body. “You are _gorgeous_. I could stare at you for days.”

“Look who’s talking, my dear,” Aziraphale answered, running his hands appreciatively down Crowley’s sides. “You are a work of art.”

Crowley snorted. “A Picasso, maybe. All angles in odd places.”

“Nonsense,” Aziraphale countered. “I find you simply breathtaking.”

“Yeah?” Crowley asked, a tentative smile on his face.

“Come back down here and I’ll show you exactly how much,” he said, pulling Crowley back to him and resuming their kiss.

~~{{smut begins}}~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He kissed Crowley deeply, earnestly, trying to spell out the depth of his desire with lips and tongue. No, wait, he could do better than that. He shuffled Crowley over to the side and rolled him over onto his back, moving to hover over him. He kept most of his weight on his knees and elbows – it wouldn’t do to crush the dear boy, after all – but he let his pelvis sink down until he was resting against Crowley, and gave one slow, deliberate roll of his hips.

“Do you feel?” he whispered in Crowley’s ear. “Do you feel what you do to me? The sight, the taste, the feel of you?”

Crowley chased Aziraphale’s hips with a thrust of his own. “Angel,” he moaned, “Do that again.”

Aziraphale obliged him, of course he did, and was surprised to find two long legs wrapping around him. “Gotcha,” Crowley said with a smug grin, pressing them together.

Aziraphale’s last few remaining braincells lost all capacity for coherent thought at that delicious friction, and sheer animal instinct took over. His hips moved in a steady rhythm, chasing pleasure, while, his mouth attacked Crowley’s neck, kissing, licking, sucking what were sure to be beautiful bruises into his skin. Crowley rewarded him with the loveliest mewling sounds and gasps of pleasure, his hips frantically meeting Aziraphale’s every movement. It must have looked ridiculous, he thought later, two grown men snogging and dry humping like teenagers, but in that moment it was nothing but wonderful.

Wonderful as it was, though, it wasn’t quite enough to push either of them to an orgasm, and Aziraphale felt like he might burst with how much he needed one.

“Crowley, dear,” he gasped between kisses.

“Hmmm?” Crowley’s mouth was busy making its way down his neck.

“Can I -fuck!” That one would definitely leave a mark.

“You said fuck!” Crowley exclaimed, delighted.

“It was justified,” Aziraphale responded with a huff.

“Hmm. I’ll have to do it again, then,” Crowley grinned. “You swear so prettily. But you were saying?”

“Can I touch you? Please? Will you touch me?

He hadn’t even finished the sentence before Crowley rolled him over onto his side. “Fuck, yes, please,” he said breathlessly, already battling with the fly of his jeans. Aziraphale followed his lead, quickly undoing his own zip and pushing his underpants down to free his straining erection.

“Oh, yesss...” he moaned in relief as he wrapped a hand around himself.

“Huh uh, no,” Crowley admonished, prying his hand away. “This way.” He moved Aziraphale’s hand onto his own member – long, slender, and rock hard under the velvety skin. Crowley hissed with pleasure as Aziraphale tightened his grip and gave a tentative stroke.

Next thing Aziraphale’ knew, he felt Crowley’s strong, callused hand wrapping around him, and after that he rather lost control of the parts of his brain that were needed to form words. He was adrift in a haze of lust, hand and hips both moving in an instinctive rhythm, chasing ever more pleasure. Before long he gasped as ecstasy overtook him, and he let himself be lost in it. He must have faltered in his attention to Crowley, because he felt Crowley’s hand close over his own, stroking with him at a desperate pace. It wasn’t long before Crowley also crested with a deep, guttural moan of pure bliss.

~~{{smut ends}}~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They lay on their sides, facing each other, both grinning stupidly with that soft, pink-tinted joy that follows a spectacular orgasm.

Crowley used one of the blankets to clean up the worst of the mess they’d made, and tossed it over his shoulder. Then he pulled up the other blanket over both of them, snuggling in close to Aziraphale.

“That was mind-blowing,” he mumbled happily, nuzzling into Aziraphale’s neck.

“It was, rather,” Aziraphale agreed, and planted a soft kiss on Crowley’s head.

They lay like that for a while, just snuggling, trading soft touches and occasional kisses. After a while – neither of them could have said how long – Aziraphale noticed that sky was starting to lighten around the horizon. He nudged Crowley, who had been dozing off. ”Looks like we’re in time to watch the sun rise,” he said.

“Wow,” Crowley said, looking surprised. “Time flies when you’re having fun, eh?”

Aziraphale laughed. “So much fun,” he said, pulling Crowley in for another kiss. Then he had a thought. “Pass me that thermos, would you?” he said, gesturing to the flask lying in one corner. He unscrewed it, delighted to find that it was still half full, and took a tentative sip. Still warm. “Care for a drink?” he said, pouring out a cup.

“Sounds delicious, angel,” Crowley said. He’d propped the pillows up against the bakkie’s window, and motioned to Aziraphale to come sit by his side. They pulled the blanket around them and sat there contentedly, passing a cup of boozy hot chocolate back and forth as they watched the sun rise. Aziraphale couldn’t remember when he’d ever been happier.


	8. Back to reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So they kissed, and admitted they're in love, but eventually the real world creeps back in...

They arrived back at the lodge that Sunday morning after their stargazing session, decidedly rumpled and -at least in Crowley’s case- desperate for a shower and a nap. Unfortunate, then, that on the way back to the bungalows they ran into Beez, standing there with a mug of coffee in one hand, a cigarette in the other, and a scowl on their face.

“Wher’ve you been?” they asked grumpily.

“Out in the reserve,” Crowley said, rolling his eyes as if to say ‘duh.’

“There was a meteor shower last night, well, early this morning,” Aziraphale explained, rather more helpfully. “I wanted to see it, and Crowley was kind enough to show me.”

“Uh huh.” Beez looked them both up and down thoughtfully, no doubt taking in their disheveled clothes and flushed cheeks. Then they shrugged and turned away, going back into their bungalow without another word.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said. “I hope we won’t get into trouble with them.”

“Nah,” Crowley said with an assurance that he didn’t quite feel. “We’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

Aziraphale gave him a soft smile. “Well. Thank you for a lovely evening. I’ll see you later?”

“Of course, angel.” Crowley looked around, and apparently satisfied that no-one else was around, leaned down to press a soft kiss to Aziraphale’s lips. “See you later.”

Neither of them was aware of hidden eyes watching them from a window.

\---

Crowley spent most of the day catching up on lost sleep. He was a lazy creature at heart, who would sleep all day if he could, and he’d had a particularly busy night to boot.

But he made sure to get up in time for dinner, not wanting to miss the chance to see his angel.

 _His angel_. He savoured the thought.

Wait, was Aziraphale his? They hadn’t exactly defined the terms of their relationship. But they had agreed that it was romantic, at least, so Crowley didn’t think he was too far off the mark. Still, he wondered how Aziraphale would feel about things in the cold light of day, especially considering how badly he’d reacted the first time. He would almost certainly want to be secretive about it. Crowley resolved that he would play it cool, let Aziraphale take the lead. Even though he wanted to shout his joy from the rooftops.

Dinner proceeded pretty much like it always had, with all of them chatting together over a meal. They were being discreet, sitting on opposite sides of the table and just occasionally sharing a heated glance.

At least, they thought they were being discreet, until Beez got up from their seat next to Aziraphale halfway through their meal. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” they huffed at Crowley, “Come sit over here and hold his hand already, or whatever it is you want to do.”

“I.. what... I don’t....” Crowley spluttered in a poor attempt at self-defence. Beez just rolled their eyes at him.

“Puh-lease, Crowley. Have you seen your neck? Stargazing my arse,” Beez said with a wicked grin.

“Oh, so you two finally did it?” Hastur said, then turned to Ligur. “You owe me,” he said, grinning smugly.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Crowley asked, bewildered.

“Oh, we were taking bets on whether you two would ever stop dancing around each other and actually do anything,” Ligur explained. “Didn’t think you had it in you. Now I owe Hastur a hundred bucks.”

There was an excited clap from further along the table. “Are you two an _item_?!” Tracy squealed, staring adoringly at them.

“Um, I guess?” Aziraphale said, looking bewildered.

“You guess?” Crowley asked, feeling a bit miffed despite knowing he didn’t need to.

“I mean... won’t we be in trouble if that’s the case?” This question was directed at Beez.

They just shrugged. “Never had a problem with these two,” they gestured at Tracy and Shadwell, “Or these two,” they repeated the gesture at Hastur and Ligur.

“Okay, wait,” Crowley said. “Tracy and Shadwell have been married for ages, and I don’t think even Uriel would insist on a divorce as a condition of employment.” There was a general chuckling at this absurd idea, and a growled _“Let the bitch just try,”_ from Shadwell. “But” he carried on, “What do you mean those two?” He gestured at the other two game rangers.

“Hey,” Ligur piped up, “Just because we’re not into romance-” “Or sex, or kissing, or any of that icky stuff,” Hastur interrupted him. “-doesn’t mean we don’t love each other,” Ligur completed his thought.

“Oh.” Crowley was stunned. A little speechless. “So you guys are actually, like... a couple? Or something?”

“I think ‘or something’ is probably closer,” Hastur said. “But yeah.”

“Well. Fuck me.” Crowley sat back in his chair.

“Oh, I think we’ll leave that to Aziraphale,” Beez said with a mischievous grin. Aziraphale blushed bright red.

“So... you really don’t mind?” Aziraphale asked. “Even with the rules and everything?”

Beez rolled their eyes. “Fucking stupid rules. We’re all adults, yeah? As long as you don’t keep me up at night, and you still get your work done, Crowley, I couldn’t give a damn what you get up to. Just don’t be gross at the dinner table.”

“Wow. Okay.” Crowley grinned, then took Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“They said don’t be gross,” Hastur piped up. Crowley stuck out his tongue at him, but out of respect for their friends, they stuck to holding hands and kept the PDAs to a minimum after that. They had the whole night to spend together, after all.

\---

That night, they were sitting on Crowley’s couch, watching MasterChef Australia while Aziraphale delivered a running commentary on what everyone was doing wrong. Well, Aziraphale was sitting on the couch; Crowley had ended up on the floor in front of him, and Aziraphale was combing his hair, gently working out the tangles that seemed to appear as if by magic.

“More trouble than it’s worth, the long hair,” Crowley grumbled.

“Why do you wear it that way, then?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shrugged. “Grew it out when I left school; I was tired of all those rules about keeping my hair short. And hairdressers are in short supply out here. I kinda like the look, I just wish it weren’t such a pain to take care of. That’s why I just stick it up in a bun most of the time.”

“Well, I think it’s lovely,” Aziraphale said, scratching gently across his scalp. Crowley nearly purred as he leaned into the touch.

“Do you mind if I braid it?” Aziraphale asked.

“Go ahead,” Crowley answered.

Aziraphale gently carded through his hair, separating it into sections and patiently weaving it into a rather intricate inside-out French braid. When he was done, he secured the end with an elastic and tilted Crowley’s head back, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Gorgeous,” he murmured.

Crowley turned around where he sat and pulled Aziraphale in for a proper kiss. It wasn’t long before they were both on the floor, kissing enthusiastically, all thoughts of MasterChef forgotten.

“Not that this isn’t fun,” Aziraphale gasped after a while, “But could we perhaps move somewhere softer? My knees aren’t what they used to be.”

Crowley stood up and offered his hand, pulling Aziraphale to his feet. “Couch or bed?” he asked, a strange echo of his words the first night he’d kissed Aziraphale.

“Oh, the bed, I think,” Aziraphale purred. “Much better for... well. Yes. Definitely the bed.”

Crowley liked that answer. He liked what came after even more. That night, he drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face and a gorgeous, soft angel in his arms.

\---

After that first night, they didn’t spend a single night sleeping alone. Why would they, when sleeping together was an option? Even though Crowley had a habit of stealing all the blankets, and he complained that Aziraphale’s snoring kept him up; these were minor irritations compared to the sheer joy of waking up to warm arms and sleepy kisses every morning. Aziraphale was happy in a way he’d never been before. 

Every so often, a small voice in the back of his mind would remind him that it couldn’t last. In the past, this would have been his insecurities speaking, telling him that Crowley would soon get tired of him and move on to better things. But no, this time it was much worse; this time, they really were living on borrowed time. Sooner or later the archangels would be back, and then their happy little fantasy would fall apart.

Aziraphale tried to push that voice to the back of his mind, as if that would somehow allow them to delay it indefinitely. At the very least, he wanted to enjoy what they could have for as long as it lasted; they would deal with the inevitable when it happened.

‘When it happened’ turned out to be early June, when the lockdown restrictions were starting to ease. They had been together for over a month by that point, and it had become such a lovely, normal part of life that Aziraphale had almost forgotten about the impending doom. That is, until he saw a familiar silver Audi Q7 pull up to the lodge. Damn, damn, damn! He’d never been less pleased to see Gabriel in his life. Still, it wouldn’t do to be impolite.

“Hello Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, walking up to him.

“Hello, Gabriel,” he returned the greeting. “You’re looking well.”

“Yes, I used the time off to catch up on my exercise regimen,” Gabriel said smugly. “Developed a nice little at-home workout routine, one that I can keep up over here. You could even join me, if you like.” Aziraphale didn’t miss the disapproving way that Gabriel’s eyes traced over his body.

“I think not,” Aziraphale replied tightly.

“So,” Gabriel went on, completely oblivious to Aziraphale’s irritation, “What’s been going on here while I’ve been gone? Any exciting news?”

Just then, Crowley’s voice rang out. “Aziraphale?” he called. “Angel? You in there?”

“Angel?” Gabriel asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, just a nickname,” Aziraphale said, flustered. “They call you and Michael and Uriel the archangels, you know.”

“Well, that’s appropriate,” Gabriel said. “We are the higher-ups, after all.”

Aziraphale fought they urge to roll his eyes as Gabriel chuckled at his own joke.

“Angel?” Crowley called again.

“Over here,” Aziraphale called out. “Guess what? Gabriel’s back.” He thought it prudent to alert Crowley before he said or did something incriminating; they had very much gotten into the habit of casual displays of affection.

“Oh. Hi.” Crowley greeted Gabriel perfunctorily. “Aziraphale, Beez was looking for you, they want your opinion on that other thing.” There was no other thing, of course, but what Gabriel didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Oh, well. Better not keep Beez waiting,” Aziraphale said, seeing his chance to escape. “See you later, Gabriel.”

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Crowley let out a heartfelt groan when they were out of earshot.

“I know,” Aziraphale agreed. “But it was bound to happen, I suppose.”

“Ugh, I wish it didn’t,” Crowley said, echoing Aziraphale’s sentiments exactly. “What do we do now?” he asked, looking at Aziraphale carefully.

“We’ll have to be careful, I guess,” Aziraphale said. “Keep out of his way. At least it’s just him we have to dodge for now, and not all three of them.”

“So you’re still willing to keep doing this? You don’t want to end it?” Crowley looked profoundly relieved.

“Oh, darling, of course not!” Aziraphale said, “Now that I finally have you, I’m never letting you go. I’d prefer not to lose my job over it, but,” he shrugged, “If it is an either/or, the job would be far easier to replace.”

Crowley’s eyes darted to both sides, and then he yanked Aziraphale through the nearest open door – a storeroom, as it happened – and kissed him soundly.

“Crowley, behave,” Aziraphale giggled, although his arms were firmly locked around Crowley’s back and he didn’t make any move to pull away.

“Have you met me?” Crowley said, mischievously, before stealing another kiss.

Aziraphale turned serious. “We shouldn’t do this,” he said sadly. “Too high risk of being caught.”

“I know,” Crowley sighed. “I’ll keep my hands to myself from now on.”

“Only in public, I hope,” Aziraphale teased.

“Count on it,” Crowley grinned back. “I should probably talk to Beez and the guys too, hey? Tell them that we’re going undercover, before one of them puts their foot in it.”

“Good thinking,” Aziraphale agreed. “I’ll do the same with Tracy and Shadwell.”

“See you later, then?” Crowley said, turning to go.

Aziraphale grabbed his arm and pulled him in for a last kiss. “See you later.”

Aziraphale waited in the storeroom for a minute or so after Crowley left, straightening his clothing and giving the flush in his cheeks a chance to go down. Then he grabbed two rolls of toilet paper off the shelf by his head, just in case anyone saw him leaving and he needed an explanation.

Ugh. This was going to get old quickly.


	9. Fire!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a ranger's worse nightmare when the neighbour's veld catches fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for a bit of drama!

It was a drag, sneaking around behind Gabriel’s back, but somehow they managed to escape detection. A few days after Gabriel’s return, Michael joined them, making their task doubly difficult. Crowley was annoyed beyond all reason, but definitely not annoyed enough to all it quits with Aziraphale. He lived for those moments they could steal to be together, which were, to be honest, not nearly as much as he would have liked. They couldn’t even sleep in the same bed anymore; the risk of being caught out was just too great.

One night, Crowley had a particularly rude awakening: it was Beez, knocking on his door in the early hours of one morning, yelling “Fire! Come quick!”

The moment those words registered in Crowley’s brain he was wide awake. He jumped out of bed, pulling on yesterday’s clothes and roughly tying his hair back.

Wildfires were an ever-present danger in the winter months, when the veld was dry and ready to go up in flames with one carelessly dropped match. They had spent a lot of time clearing dry brush and burning fire breaks around the reserve, but there were no guarantees. If there was a veld fire anywhere in the area, you showed up to fight it; a neighbour’s fire could very easily become yours. They had a 6-kilolitre tanker truck with a pressure pump that they used when burning fire breaks; it was kept always fuelled up and filled with water for exactly these sorts of emergencies.

He ran out to the truck, where Hastur and Ligur were already packing in all their firefighting equipment. Crowley could see the fire – not on their reserve, thankfully; it was on a neighbouring farm, but in the worst possible position, upwind from them. Crowley found himself praying to a god he wasn’t sure existed that their firebreaks would be enough to stop the wind from driving the fire over and into their home.

As soon as all the equipment was packed, the four rangers piled into the Crowley’s bakkie and set off, Shadwell following in the truck. Beez was talking to the owner of the unfortunate farm on the phone, getting instructions for where to go and what to do. They motioned to Crowley to turn off onto a little dirt road, and he swerved to the side, barely even bothering to reduce his speed. Every minute counted.

“Stop here!” Beez yelled, when they were still some way away from the fire. “We need to start burning a firebreak along this road.”

Burning firebreaks was really the only way to fight a fire of this size. It was oddly poetic, fighting fire with fire – burn the brush quickly, and in a controlled manner, so that once the big fire arrived there would be nothing left for it to burn. Hastur took the lead, setting the fire, and the rest of them followed behind with 20-litre ‘backpacks’ filled with water, making sure that the burn didn’t spread to the wrong side of the road. Shadwell stayed near the pump truck, ready to spring into action should anything get out of control.

It was hot, dirty work, and it went on and on, the big fire coming ever closer. Crowley reckoned they were making good progress, though; not far to go before they would hit the farm’s main perimeter firebreak.

Suddenly, Ligur shouted out that he needed help, and Beez set off like a gazelle. Crowley ran after them, struggling to keep up over the rugged terrain. He was ducking and weaving through the bush when he was abruptly pulled to a stop as his hair caught on an overhanging branch. Fuck it! He yanked roughly at it, wincing in pain, but it was stuck fast. Bloody thick branch too; he couldn’t even break it off.

“Crowley!” came Beez’s voice from somewhere up ahead.

He cursed and did the only thing that seemed logical in that moment: pulled out his knife and started hacking at the offending hair until he finally broke free. There was no time to think about it; they had a fire to fight. He sprinted into the murk, calling for Beez until they found each other.

The three of them quickly got the fire back under control, and another half-hour saw them burning right up to the main break. Beez relayed the good news to the farm’s owner, who thanked them for their help; the fire had hit the firebreaks in most directions now and was burning itself out. They sent Shadwell, Hastur and Ligur on home so long, but Crowley and Beez hung around until a group of workers from the farm showed up to take over. It was late morning by now, and Crowley was exhausted and aching from the night’s activities.

The drive back proceeded at a rather more sedate pace.

“So what’s going on with you and Aziraphale now?” Beez asked as the bakkie jostled along the bumpy road. “You still dating, or fucking, or whatever it is you were doing?”

Crowley shrugged. “We’re still together. The fucking is a bit of a challenge with Gabriel and Michael lurking around.”

“Arseholes,” Beez opined.

“You’re telling me,” Crowley agreed.

They were silent for a bit, then Beez piped up again, “You know what? Fuck them. You guys were so happy together. You should be allowed to have that.”

Crowley sighed. “Yeah, we should. But them’s the rules. And Aziraphale isn’t ready to give them the middle finger. So what else can I do?”

“I’ll threaten Gabriel for you if you like,” Beez offered.

Crowley chuckled. “Thanks,” he said. ”I might take you up on that.” He allowed himself to dream, just for a moment, of a world where Gabriel and his gang were off their backs.

“Shit,” Beez suddenly said, and Crowley’s head jerked up. He saw clouds of smoke billowing into the air, right in the area they were headed towards.

“Shit!” he agreed. “Shit, shit, shit!” Beez had to brace themselves against the dash and the roof, because suddenly Crowley was driving like he was competing in the World Rally Championship.

The fire was clearly coming from their property; it must have somehow crept around the side of the reserve while they were busy elsewhere.

As they drew near, it became clear that the fire wasn’t out in the veld, but at the lodge itself, near their living area. One of the bungalows seemed to have caught fire, bloody stupid thatch roofs.

In fact...

“No, nonono,” he muttered to himself as if to ward off the bad luck, but he could already tell that it was in vain; it was Aziraphale’s bungalow that was on fire.

He screeched to a halt in front of the bungalow and made a beeline for the front door. He was vaguely aware of Hastur and Ligur calling out to him as he ran, but the only thing his mind fixated on was _find Aziraphale!!!_

He yanked open the front door; a monumentally stupid thing to do when a building is on fire, but logical thought had deserted him some time ago. Smoke poured out of the open door, stinging his eyes and making him cough. He pulled his shirt up to cover his mouth and nose and barged in, yelling for Aziraphale as he went.

He made his way through the little living area and into the bedroom, but Aziraphale was nowhere to be found. His throat was raw, lungs were on fire, he was dizzy with lack of oxygen and tears were running down his face. “Aziraphale!” he yelled hoarsely. “Aziraphale, where are you?”

“Crowley!” he heard the faint reply. “Out here!”

He stumbled over to the window and looked out, saw Aziraphale standing outside next to Tracy. He struggled to get the window open, his fingers feeling stupid and his eyes refusing to focus. Darkness closed in on him as he felt his knees finally give way. The last thing he was aware of was the sound of breaking glass.

\---

When Crowley came to a few minutes later, he was outside on the lawn and, for some reason, soaking wet. He was also lying half on Aziraphale’s lap, which he was not going to complain about.

“Wha-“ he started, then winced; his throat felt like it had come second in a fight with a cheese grater.

“Have some water, dear,” Aziraphale said, passing him a bottle. Crowley gulped it down, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. Aziraphale stroked a hand over his hair as he drank.

Crowley struggled up to sit, turning to face Aziraphale. “You’re okay?” he rasped, frantically patting him down, looking for any sign of injury.

“I’m fine, my dear,” Aziraphale said soothingly. “I was in the kitchen when the fire started.”

“Oh, thank God,” Crowley said, slumping back again. “Ouch,” he said as his head hit the ground.

Aziraphale tsk-ed at him. “Silly man, running into a burning building. What on earth were you thinking?”

“Thought you were in there,” Crowley said. “Had to save you.”

“We were trying to tell you he wasn’t, you idiot,” Ligur said. “But you ran in there like a maniac. Had to break the window to get you out.”

“Fuck. Sorry,” Crowley said, feeling like a bit of a fool now that the adrenalin had worn off.

“Come on, my love,” Aziraphale said, standing up and offering him a hand. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Crowley stumbled as he tried to walk; his legs felt like rubber. Aziraphale was next to him in an instant, pulling Crowley’s hand over his shoulder and propping him up. They made their way carefully to Crowley’s bungalow.

Once inside, Aziraphale deposited Crowley on the couch and walked off to the bathroom. “You just rest for a moment,” he said. “I’m going to draw you a bath.”

Crowley lay on the couch, half-dozing, until Aziraphale returned. “Up you get,” he said, gently walking Crowley over to the bathroom. He made him sit on the toilet and bent down, starting to undo his hiking boots.

“Here, let me,” Crowley said, bending forward and nearly tipping himself off his seat. Aziraphale gently but firmly pushed him back up.

“You’re worn out,” he said. “Let me help you.”

Crowley relented, and sat quietly as Aziraphale removed his shoes and socks.

He was a little surprised when Aziraphale snickered. “My dear, are you aware that you’re wearing two different coloured socks?”

“Crowley looked down at his feet. “Am I?” he asked dumbly.

“Yes. This one’s green,” he said, pointing to the one foot, “And this one’s brown.”

“Oops,” Crowley said. “Sorry. Look the same to me. ‘m a bit colour blind. Usually only buy brown socks.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Just when I think you can’t get any cuter.”

Next, he helped Crowley out of his shirt, and finally out of his pants and underwear. He guided him over to the bath and held his hand as he got in.

Crowley let out a sigh of relief as the warm water wrapped around his aching body. He laid back contentedly, closing his eyes.

They shot open again when he felt a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m going to help you clean up, okay?” Aziraphale asked, reaching for a washcloth. Crowley nodded dumbly. It occurred to him that he should probably be feeling embarrassed, or perhaps aroused, but instead he just felt deeply safe and cared for.

Aziraphale carefully washed him from head to toe, directing him to move as needed with soft hands and softer words. Then he had Crowley lean back and washed his hair, or what was left of it.

“What happened?” Aziraphale asked softly. As he told the story, he felt a twinge of sadness for the first time. He’d been rather fond of his long hair and he was sorry to see it gone. He was especially sorry that Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to brush and braid it for him anymore. He didn’t even want to imagine what it looked like now.

“Is it bad?” he asked

“Um. Let’s just say it looks like it was cut in the dark with a knife by someone who couldn’t quite reach.” Crowley groaned.

“I’ll cut it for you, if you like,” Aziraphale offered. “I mean, it won’t be a salon-worthy job, but I’m sure I couldn’t make it worse.”

“Thanks, angel,” Crowley sighed.

When he was ready to get out, Aziraphale wrapped him up in a towel and went to find his most comfy pair of pyjamas, helping him get dressed. Crowley felt like a helpless child, but he couldn’t find it in himself to protest. It was so damn nice just to be taken care of.

“I think you need a nap,” Aziraphale finally said, guiding him to the bed. He pulled back the covers, let Crowley settle in, curled up in a foetal position, and then carefully tucked him in.

Aziraphale sat down next to him. “Would you like me to sit with you for a while?” he asked quietly.

“Please,” Crowley answered. Aziraphale kicked off his own shoes and swung his legs up onto the bed, settling in next to Crowley. He brushed Crowley’s hair back from his face before placing a tender kiss on his temple. “Sleep well, my dear,” he whispered.

Crowley did.

\---

Crowley woke up to a darkened room; a quick peek out the window suggested that it was around sunset. He must have been out for hours.

He sat up and stretched, yawning loudly. Man, he was thirsty. Should probably go find some water.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Aziraphale appeared in the door.

“You’re still here?” Crowley rasped. His voice sounded like the product of fifty years of chain smoking.

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale fussed, “Let me get you some water.” He disappeared, and came back a few moments with a tall glass of water. Crowley downed it in one breath.

“Thanks, angel,” he said. “Needed that. What’s the time?”

“Almost six. You really were out for the count.”

“Wow,” Crowley said. “Should probably go get dinner, yeah?”

“If you want,” Aziraphale said. “Or if you don’t want to go out, I can get food for us and we can eat here.”

“That sounds perfect,” Crowley said, sinking back into the pillows gratefully.

They ate on the bed, sharing a bottle of wine from Aziraphale’s personal stash.

“How’s your place?” Crowley asked. “Anything salvageable?”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale answered. “It was just the thatch that caught fire. Must have been an ember caught on the wind, since nothing else was on fire. They managed to put it out before it could spread to the inside. So everything’s a little... smoked, but otherwise intact.”

“That’s good,” Crowley said. “At least you can still use the place.”

“Not exactly,” Aziraphale said. “They took off most of the thatch to get at all the fire. So it’s a bit alfresco at the moment. Should probably go move my books and things under cover, come to think of it.”

“Bummer,” Crowley said. “So where are you gonna stay now?”

“Probably in one of the guest rooms in the lodge,” Aziraphale answered.

Crowley looked over at him. “You can stay here. If you like.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, looking like he was about to protest, but then he shut it again. A small frown creased his brow as he had some sort of debate with himself. Crowley waited patiently for it to play out.

“Thank you,” he said at last. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Nah,” Crowley said dismissively. “Entirely selfish.” He looked down at his plate for a moment, then continued more softly. “I miss sleeping next to you.”

“Me too,” Aziraphale admitted.

“It’s settled, then,” Crowley said. “We’ll go get all your stuff that can’t sleep outdoors, and you can move in here.”

“And what do we tell Gabriel?” Aziraphale asked.

“We don’t,” Crowley answered. “We let Beez deal with him. They offered to threaten him for us, by the way.”

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale chuckled. “I almost feel sorry for Gabriel. Almost.”

“He’s an arse, Angel,” Crowley answered. “Him and his whole posse.”

“True,” Aziraphale conceded.

They finished their meal, had a quick chat with Beez, and moved Aziraphale’s stuff over to Crowley’s bungalow. That night, they both slept more soundly than they had since the first night after Gabriel came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hair cutting thing that happened with Crowley? Based on a true story.   
> Ditto for the mismatched socks.   
> And the thatch catching fire without setting fire to the rest of the house.


	10. Caught out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The archangels were bound to notice sometime, right?

After the drama of the fire, Beez gave their rangers the next day off; there was nothing that had to be done urgently, and they could all use the break. Crowley, of course, refused to let Aziraphale out of his sight, sitting next to him in the kitchen as he baked a batch of rusks.

Once those were drying in the oven, Aziraphale attempted to give Crowley a haircut. It turned out that hair cutting was much harder than it looked. Fortunately, Tracy came to their aid; she’d been cutting Shadwell’s hair for years, and left Crowley with a perfectly serviceable short-back-and-sides (necessitated by one spot where he’d hacked in quite close to the scalp). She left it a bit longer on top, though, so that it tended to flop rakishly over his forehead. Aziraphale thought it looked devilishly handsome, and made sure to tell him so to the accompaniment of many kisses.

Of course, come afternoon, Crowley wanted to take a nap, and Aziraphale was more than happy to sit next to him on the bed, reading a book while he snoozed.

Eventually, though, he needed to go start the prep for dinner. Crowley really was a champion sleeper. He put his book aside and bent down, gently nuzzling Crowley’s cheek until he got a ‘mngh?’ in response.

“I have to go start on supper, my love,” he said.

Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s neck. “Noooo. Stay with me,” he whined.

“I’d love to, but then we won’t have anything to eat tonight.” Aziraphale gave him a slow kiss, then started to untangle himself. “Come join me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

He put his shoes back on and made his way out the door. Apparently it wasn’t his lucky day, because he emerged just as Gabriel and Michael were walking past.

“Ah, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said jovially. “Just the man! We’ve just been taking some photos of your roof for the insurance. They promised they would send a repairman before the end of the week.”

“Well, that’s splendid, I’m sure,” Aziraphale said, “Although there’s really no rush.”

“Wait a minute,” Michael said suddenly. “Where are you staying at the moment? I haven’t seen you up at the lodge.”

“Oh, no,” Aziraphale said. “I’m staying here, actually.” He gestured to the bungalow he’d just come out of.

“Isn’t that Crowley’s place?” Michael asked.

“Yes, he offered me a space. Why, is there a problem?” he asked innocently.

“Oh, come on, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said. “Wouldn’t you rather stay up at the lodge than sharing a room with that riffraff?”

Aziraphale felt his temper starting to rise. “Crowley is not riffraff!” he said indignantly. “He’s my friend. And unlike you, he’s been nothing but kind to me. I’d much rather stay down here than... Well.”

“Than what, Aziraphale?” Gabriel asked, looming over him threateningly. “Do you have something to say to us, hm?” He placed a heavy hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, a gesture that was just a little too rough to be friendly.

At that moment Crowley emerged from the door, still sleep-ruffled and a little dazed. He took one look at the scene playing out in front of him and started to stride over angrily.

“What the hell is goi- FUCK!” he broke off, jumping to the side. “Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck!” he yelled, hopping from one foot to the other. Aziraphale hurried over immediately.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” he asked, alarmed.

“Paperthorns[6]. Aaargh, my feet.” Crowley sank down on the ground, lifting said feet off the ground. He wasn’t wearing any shoes, and Aziraphale could see masses of off-white thorns sticking out of the soles of his feet.

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale said, dropping to the ground next to him. “Here, let me see.” He picked at a few of the thorns ineffectually, but got frustrated when they just seemed to break off, leaving the tips still in the skin.

“We’re going to need tweezers,” he decided. “Come on, let’s get you back inside. Can you walk?”

Crowley hobbled to his feet, but yelped in pain with every step.

“Hang on to my neck,” Aziraphale instructed, and picked him up like a child. “There we go,” he said soothingly as he started walking. “Hang on, my love. Soon have you fixed up”

In all the drama, Aziraphale had completely forgotten that Michael and Gabriel were still standing there, witnessing the entire exchange.

Aziraphale plonked Crowley down on the couch and went to fetch his first aid kit. Then he set to the task of meticulously removing every little thorn with his tweezers, dropping them on a tissue to go discard later.

“You really need to stop doing this, you know,” he chuckled at Crowley as he removed the last thorn.

“Doing what? Crowley asked.

“You know. Rushing to my rescue and injuring yourself in the process.” Aziraphale explained, carefully inspecting the foot for any thorns he may have missed. “That’s three times now.”

“Wait. It’s this, and the fire. What was the other one?”

“The snake,” Aziraphale reminded him. “Although I must say, I’m glad to see you’ve upgraded your armour a bit.”

Crowley laughed at the memory, but then his eyes grew soft. “You know, I was falling for you even then,” he said. “Nearly swallowed my tongue when you took my hand.”  
“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said coyly in response. “And I thought I was the only one, ogling you and your sexy hips. Should have grabbed on to your hand and never let go.”

Crowley leaned forward a bit to cup his cheek. “We got there in the end,” he said, still with that soft smile.

Aziraphale turned his head to kiss Crowley’s rough palm. “I’m so glad we did, my love.”

“Yeah, me too,” Crowley agreed, pulling Aziraphale up into his lap for a gentle kiss. “I love you, angel,” he whispered into the space between them.

Hearing those words from Crowley’s mouth was like swallowing a shot of mampoer[7]: it initially stole his breath away, and then left him with a spreading warmth in his chest and a pleasant sort of giddiness. He pressed his lips to Crowley’s again, fighting a smile. “And I love you, my dearest. More than I could possibly say.”

\---

Aziraphale was annoyed the next morning when Gabriel called him into his office. He had things to do, for goodness’ sake. What stupid new idea had the manager had this time? They weren’t even open for guests yet.

He was surprised, therefore, to find that Gabriel’s office was quite full already; Michael was there, looking smug, and Beez too, wearing their usual expression of bored annoyance. Even more incongruously, Uriel’s face was showing on the computer screen, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, with a fake joviality that grated on Aziraphale’s nerves. “Good of you to join us. Please, sit,” he gestured to an empty chair.

“I wasn’t aware that we’d be having a full-blown meeting,” Aziraphale said as he sank into the chair. “Beez? What’s going on?” He had developed something like a friendship with the prickly head ranger, and at the moment they were by far the most approachable person in the room.

Beez just shrugged. “Fucked if I know,” they said, glaring at Gabriel.

“Beez is here because it is required to have the entire management team together when there is a disciplinary inquiry,” Michael deadpanned. Beez looked as stunned as Aziraphale felt.

“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale asked indignantly.

“It has come to our attention, Aziraphale, that you may have been transgressing our rules of conduct,” Uriel said. “We considered it only fair that we give you an opportunity to clarify your side of the story.”

“Story?” Aziraphale asked. He had a sinking feeling that he knew where this was going.

Gabriel spoke up again. “We have reason to believe, Aziraphale, that you have been... fraternising with another staff member.”

“Fraternising?” Aziraphale spluttered.

Beez rolled their eyes. “Is this about Crowley?” they asked.

“It is,” Michael confirmed. “You can’t tell me there’s nothing going on there. We’ve all seen the way you two are.”

“As you very well know,” Uriel spoke up on the screen, “It is against our policy for staff members to become involved with each other. So take care when you answer: what is the nature of your relationship with Crowley?”

Before Aziraphale could answer, Beez piped up. “What kind of a fucking circus is this? And doesn’t Crowley get a say in the matter, huh?”

“You can deal with Crowley later,” Michael said primly. “He is no concern of ours.”

“Oh, no,” Beez argued, “You’re not getting away with that. Didn’t you just say the whole management team has to be present for this sort of thing?” Before anyone could argue, they had their phone out. “Hi, Crowley?... Yeah, could you pop over to Gabriel’s office?... Yes, now... I don’t give a fuck, get your arse over here. Now.” They ended the call and smiled sweetly at Gabriel. “He’s on his way.”

Aziraphale felt like he was trapped in a nightmare. There was no way he could get out of this a winner. If he told the truth, he would lose his job, be forced to move away and possibly never see Crowley again. If he lied, he could keep the job, but he would surely lose Crowley anyway through such a cruel lie. It was a lose-lose situation.

And that was freeing in its own way. If he were to lose Crowley anyway, he would go down with his true colours flying.

Crowley burst into the room in a huff. “What the hell, Beez?” He started, but the words died on his lips as he took in the rest of the company, his eyes growing wide when they landed on Aziraphale.

“An- Aziraphale?” he started. “What’s going on?”

“The inevitable, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale answered.

“Sit,” Gabriel bit out at Crowley. Beez shot him a dirty look.

“So, the reason we’re all here today is because the angel squad are worried that there’s something inappropriate going on between the two of you,” Beez drawled. “Care to elaborate?”

“Beez,” Crowley began. “C’mon, play fair. You know-“

“No,” Aziraphale interrupted him, placing a hand on his arm. Crowley turned to him, and their eyes met. Aziraphale drank it in, basked in the unashamed love and acceptance he found there. He ventured a tentative smile, and was relieved when Crowley’s mouth twitched up in answer, and he felt Crowley’s hand cover his own.

Aziraphale turned back to the assembled managers. “It’s very simple, my dears,” he said. “I love Crowley. I wouldn’t presume to put words in his mouth, but I dare say he loves me too.” Vigorous nodding from Crowley. “And despite your silly nineteenth-century rules, there is nothing inappropriate about that.”

Gabriel was looking at them with a mixture of disdain and disgust, but behind his back Beez was flashing them a double thumbs-up.

“In case you haven’t noticed, my dears, we have laws in this country, laws that forbid discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation. Now, you may argue that this little situation has nothing to do with the fact that I’m gay, or you may try to dismiss me based on your flimsy little employment contract, but I’m fairly sure that won’t hold up in the labour court that I will most certainly drag your sorry arses through. What’s more, I know for a fact that you can’t do a thing to Crowley, since he never even signed such a thing, so I suggest you leave him out of this entirely.”

Aziraphale stood up and primly dusted off the front of his shirt. “That is all I have to say on the matter. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go call my lawyer.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, dimly aware of Crowley following him. As the door closed behind them, he heard Beez break into a peal of laughter.

Aziraphale let himself relax, the bravado draining out of him now that the moment had passed. He stopped and let his shoulders slump down, breath leaving him in a rush.

He felt Crowley take him gently by the arm and spinning him around so that he stood with his back up against the wall. The next thing he knew, Crowley’s mouth was on his, kissing him firmly. He pulled away after a few seconds. “Fuck, angel,” he beamed. “You were magnificent in there!”

Aziraphale gave him a weak smile. “I’m not sure it will be enough to save my job,” he said, “But at least you should be safe. I just... I couldn’t lie about what you mean to me. Not even if it cost me all this.”

Crowley kissed him again, softly this time, tenderly. “I love you, angel.” he said. “I love you so much. I’d give it all up for you, you know. Leave the bush behind and follow you anywhere.”

Aziraphale just pulled him close, rested his head against a strong shoulder. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said.

### Notes

6 If you’ve never stepped in a paperthorn ([this bugger](https://www.ispotnature.org/communities/southern-africa/view/observation/340049/khaki-weed-kakiedubbeltjie)), be grateful. It’s agonising. And each little plant has hundreds of thorns on it that all embed themselves in the sole of your foot. They are a huge part of the reason why I never walk around barefoot outdoors.[return to text]

7 Mampoer is very strong alcohol (Like, upwards of 75% alc/vol)[return to text]


	11. New beginnings and happy endings

As Aziraphale had feared, his threats weren’t enough to save his job; Gabriel seemed to have taken his defection as a personal insult, and was determined to get rid of him at any cost.

Aziraphale wasn’t about to back down easily, though; he handed over the case to a well-known labour lawyer, who assured him that Gabriel had no legal leg to stand on and there was no way he would come out of this on top. Aziraphale was grateful for that, at least – it may have been too late for him, but he’d make sure no-one else after him was treated so badly again. The lawyer probably could have saved his job, too, but Aziraphale was less than enthusiastic about continuing to work under Gabriel. He’d much rather take his chances trying to find a new position elsewhere.

Saying goodbye to Crowley had been by far the hardest part of it all. It had been an unwilling goodbye on both their parts, but Aziraphale couldn’t stay on the reserve, and Crowley couldn’t leave, at least not right away. He did, however, start looking for a new job from the day Aziraphale was dismissed.

It was about a month after leaving Engadini that Aziraphale got a phone call in the middle of the day. He was used to Crowley calling at night – they spent hours on video calls most evenings – but daytime calls were unusual. Crowley excitedly told him that he’d been in touch with one of his old friends from college, and it turned out they had an opening for a ranger on their reserve.

“And you know the best part, angel?” Crowley had said excitedly. “It’s just a conservation area. No tourists!”

“That’s wonderful, my love,” Aziraphale had said. “When do you start?”

“As soon as Gabriel will let me go,” Crowley answered. “Which, knowing him, is like yesterday. But I’ll help Beez get my replacement settled in first. Lucky they were thinking ahead, they already have someone lined up.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Aziraphale said, and he was, really. But there was one unspoken question that still weighed heavy on his mind: what about me? What about _us_?

  
Crowley was still babbling excitedly about his new job, and Aziraphale did his best to keep up. The new place was called Emhlabeni[8], and it was enormous, over 10,000 hectares. Crowley told him that his old friend Anathema was the general manager there, and she had offered him the job. He talked about the animals (“they have leopards, angel!”), and the conservation programmes, and the internship training they did for the local colleges that he would help with.

“It sounds marvellous, my dear,” Aziraphale said, charmed by Crowley’s obvious enthusiasm.

“Oh, I haven’t even got to the best bit,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale could hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh yes? What’s that?” Aziraphale asked.

“You’re also invited!” Crowley said. “I mean, if you want to,” he followed up, sounding a bit less certain.

“Of course I want to!” Aziraphale responded immediately. “I would like nothing better!”

“Well, they don’t have a job for you, not at the moment.” Crowley clarified. “But it’s free board and all your meals included, so it’s not like you really need a paycheck.”

“My dear, as long as I get to stay with you, I couldn’t care less about the rest.” Aziraphale said, with absolute honesty.

\--

It took a couple of weeks for Crowley to wrap up his affairs at Engadini, and once he was finally ready to go, Beez decided that they should have a farewell braai[9]. They insisted that Aziraphale should also come, since he never had a proper send-off either. Aziraphale had been a bit nervous about the possibility of running into Gabriel, but Crowley could beg and cajole like a champion, so he agreed to join his friends for an evening of merriment.

The party, such as it was, ran on late into the night. Once the food was finished, Hastur threw some more wood onto the coals until it was a proper bonfire. They all sat around the flames, talking and laughing while the stars twinkled overhead. Everyone, that is, except the archangels, who had wisely decided to stay away. Crowley suspected that Beez might have had something to do with that, but they just grinned evilly and refused to say anything.

Eventually, they decided to call it a night, and everyone drifted off to bed. Crowley, however, didn’t head for the bungalow. He had other plans.

“Come for a drive with me?” he asked, inclining his head to the bakkie. Aziraphale agreed easily enough, and they set off into the reserve.

Crowley drove them to the same spot where they’d first gone stargazing, all those months ago. This earned him a raised eyebrow when Aziraphale realised where they were.

“C’mon, then,” he said, clambering up to the back; just like last time, he’d kitted it out to form a nice, cozy little bed. He settled down onto the mattress and patted the space next to him, motioning for Aziraphale to sit down. Aziraphale joined him with a smile, settling in next to him and immediately snuggling up to his side. Crowley pulled a blanket up over them. It was still winter, probably not the best time of year for midnight outings, but the two of them would be warm enough together.

“So, why here?” Aziraphale asked, once they were comfortably ensconced in a nest of warm blankets.

“Happy memories,” Crowley said. “Probably the happiest memory I have of this place.”

“I’m rather fond of it myself,” Aziraphale smiled.

“I wanted to see it with you one last time,” Crowley said. “I know we’ll still make tons of new memories together, but there’s something to be said for remembering the old ones too, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely, my dear,” Aziraphale agreed.

They spent some time just lying there, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together. They gazed at the stars, Crowley pointing out the constellations and Aziraphale beaming with pride when he correctly identified the Southern Cross.

“Ooh, look!” Aziraphale piped up, grabbing onto Crowley’s arm excitedly, “A meteor.”

“A shooting star, huh?” Crowley grinned. “You know what that means.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, bringing a hand up to his cheek. “Still you,” he said, pulling Crowley in for a kiss.

They didn’t do much stargazing after that.

\--

They settled in quickly at Emhlabeni, Crowley falling into the conservation work and student training as if he’d been created for it. Aziraphale also found a niche. To everyone’s surprise, and certainly his own, it wasn’t in the kitchen (although he did help out regularly), but on the internet. Anathema had made an offhand remark about starting a blog on their website, and Aziraphale decided to try it out. Apparently a lifetime of reading everything he could get his hands on had been the perfect preparation for blogging, since he found it easy to write informative, engaging pieces about life on the reserve. What’s more, he discovered he had a flair for photography, and his photos soon adorned every page on the website and every wall in the offices. One of them even won a small contest in a local newspaper, a feat he was particularly proud of.

Crowley still kept in contact with Beez and the gang, faithfully relaying the latest gossip from Engadini to Aziraphale. Apparently the owners had flipped out over the costs related to Aziraphale’s (successful) lawsuit, and the three archangels had received a thorough ear bashing and formal warnings all around. Beez and Gabriel had come to some sort of understanding where he checked in with them before doing anything new, and they kept him from making any monumentally stupid mistakes. Crowley thought he might have been getting delusional, but Beez almost seemed to be growing fond of the pompous arse. No accounting for taste, he supposed.

It was over a year before they returned to Engadini again – this time, to celebrate Tracy and Shadwell’s retirement. Crowley hadn’t realised they were that old, but it turned out they were both pushing seventy, and had decided to move on to a little cottage by the sea.

The party was great fun, spending time with their old friends and getting to know the few new people that had joined the staff. To Crowley’s surprise, Gabriel was also there, and could even pass for polite thanks to Beez’s occasional admonishments along the lines of “behave, asshole.” He was making an effort, which was impressive enough, and there was even a strange, stilted attempt at an apology to Aziraphale. All in all, it was a very pleasant evening.

As the party wound down, Aziraphale disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a familiar thermos flask. “Care to take a drive?” he winked conspirationally. Crowley didn’t need to be asked twice. He quickly collected the blankets and pillows from the room they were staying in, borrowed Beez’s access card, and they set off into the reserve. Neither of them needed to mention the destination. It could only be one place.

“You know, this is still my favourite spot on the reserve,” Crowley said as Aziraphale snuggled in next to him on the back of the bakkie, a cup of boozy hot chocolate passing back and forth between them.

“I wonder if we’ll see any shooting stars tonight?” Aziraphale mused.

“Why, do you have any unfulfilled wishes?” Crowley teased. “Any dreams I can make come true?” Considering how that particular conversation had turned out in the past, he was optimistic that this line of questioning would lead to an enjoyable outcome.

To his surprise, Aziraphale sat up primly and cleared his throat. “I believe there is, actually,” he said.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Go on,” he said. He would have liked to have his arms full of Aziraphale by now, but okay. He could be patient.

“Do you remember what my answer was the last two times you asked me that question?” Aziraphale asked.

“Of course,” Crowley answered – like he would ever forget that! “You said you wanted me. I was more than happy to grant that wish, by the way. Still am,” he added with a wink.

“Well, I must say, my wish hasn’t really changed. But it’s gotten.... bigger?” Aziraphale looked a little nervous.

“Hmm?” Crowley prompted, curious to see where this was going.

“I still want you, but I want you forever,” Aziraphale explained. “To be mine in every possible way.”

“I am that already, angel,” Crowley said. He had a feeling he knew where this conversation was going, and his heart was suddenly beating so hard he was sure they could hear it back at the lodge.

“There is one last way you’re not mine,” Aziraphale said, “One way in which I would very much like to be yours.” He took a deep breath. “Would you marry me, Crowley, my dearest love?”

Crowley’s mouth fell open. “Seriously?” he said. “You’d want that – want me? Forever?”

“Is that a yes?” Aziraphale asked.

“Of course it is, you crazy, perfect angel. Of course it is.” Crowley took Aziraphale’s face in both hands and kissed him deeply. “There is nothing, and I mean nothing, that I would like better in this world,” he breathed into the space between them, “Than to belong to you for ever.”

### Notes

8 Emhlabeni is Zulu for “on earth”. Seems fitting, no?[return to text]

9 A braai, for those who don’t speak South African, is a barbecue.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe another story is finished! Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading and leaving comments, I love you all and you never fail to make my day xx
> 
> The next story is about 90% written already, so I should start posting that relatively soon. It's a high school AU set at a stuffy English boarding school circa 1985. Featuring Crowley on guitar and lots of 70's and 80's rock music, because that's my vibe 😆
> 
> As always, please feel free to come say hi on Tumblr - I'm sani-86 there.


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